


Speakeasy

by TerriblySheepish



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Personas (Persona Series), Because I am a slut for that 1920s aesthetic, Decided to update some tags for some things, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Goro Akechi swears A LOT, Gun Violence, I'll add tags as I go along, Like extremely slow burn I'm serious, M/M, Slow Burn, Swearing, There will be flirting tho, almost as much as Ryuji except he can say fuck, also gun violence, basically this is the detective noir au I've been meaning to write about, because 1920s gangsters - so steer clear if you're not into that, i guess, lots of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerriblySheepish/pseuds/TerriblySheepish
Summary: Moonlighting as a hitman for the local mafia was not something that Goro Akechi liked to boast about - mostly because doing so will get him killed. He liked to keep it on the down low, especially in the daytime when he's working with the police as your friendly neighborhood Detective Prince.Things start to get a little tricky, however, when he's contracted to eliminate the Phantom Thieves, and a run-in with their mischievous leader throws his well-hidden double life into complete disarray.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 25
Kudos: 100





	1. Unpaid Overtime

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Polaris](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660447) by [pastel_didactic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_didactic/pseuds/pastel_didactic). 



Main cause of death: blood loss due to multiple gunshot wounds.

Detective Goro Akechi stared at the man lying dead on the floor at his feet. He's seen him before - once or twice maybe, at one of the social gatherings he’s had to attend in the past - but he didn't really have a name to go with the face. He took note of all the blood staining the carpet, the drag marks leading back to the desk on the other side of the room. Judging from the many bullet holes on the man’s chest, his death must have been long and painful. 

Goro wrinkled his nose in distaste. 

What a sordid lack of _grace_. 

"Hey," he called out to the young forensic photographer idling hesitantly in the far corner of the room. "Watch your step, all right? Don't go stepping in that blood." 

"Yes sir." 

There were, perhaps, better ways of spending a lovely Sunday evening. Ways that didn’t involve seeing blood and dead bodies. Not that Goro had the time to be indulging himself like that… There were so many homicide cases popping up in the last few weeks that he even had to come in during his days off. It wasn’t fun, but it was work. It paid the bills.

Goro couldn’t really complain about work when it kept him fed, most of the time.

He pulled out the notepad and pen he always kept handy in the pocket of his trench coat and went to work, consulting with the first responders to get the context of the situation. According to the maid who had discovered the body, the last person to have seen the victim alive was a guest who had left at around six in the evening, over thirty minutes before the body was discovered. 

Goro had to employ a very specific brand of self-restraint to keep from visibly reacting to the description of the suspect that he was given. _A man in a crisp black suit and wearing sunglasses_ . Goro already had his suspicions, but that was the final confirmation to his theory. He wasn’t just dealing with a simple murder – though that was already a given, considering the circumstances. Obviously _that man_ was involved… because _of course he was_ . The only issue was that, though he knew for sure that it was related to Shido, he had no real way to definitively connect two and two together. As sloppy as the job had been, there was no evidence at all to go by; no bullet shells to trace back to a gun, no fingerprints, no nothing, and even if he was _sure_ , without proof he couldn’t just make an arrest.

Well, he probably could, if he wanted to. But he didn’t have the money to pay off all the paperwork he would have to skip over if he did _that_.

"So what are we looking at, Detective?" 

“Homicide, as usual. Most likely mafia-related, as it always is.” Goro finally looked up from his notepad, having jotted down everything he could see from where he stood. "Hey, Chief. You're late today," he waved. 

Police Chief Makoto Nijima tipped her hat at him. "Sorry, my sister pulled me in for a last-minute evidence review." 

"Ah. Sae taking extra precautions, again is she?" 

"Can't blame her. Defendant's a shifty one, might win out the jury if she doesn't snap them out of their senses." 

Goro snorted. _Good old Sae._

"So, mind showing me what you've got so far?" 

"Of course." 

It took few hours to cover the entire crime scene including the rest of the house. Goro went through the motions with little thought; he’s done it so many times before that it was easy to just step back and let his body do the work. There were other things that he needed to think about… Like which of Shio’s grimy little hitmen could have carried out this hit. 

Before he knew it, he was already back at the station and somebody was knocking on his door.

“Come in,” he called out absently.

“Working hard as usual, I see.”

He looked up from the report he was still writing. Makoto stared back at him from the doorway to his office, her coat on her arm and her hat dangling on the tips of her fingers.

“Aren’t you going to call it a day? Everyone else has.” She asked him.

Goro shook his head and flashed her the kindest smile. “I… In a little while, perhaps. I just want to finish as much of the paperwork as possible.”

“You’ve done a good amount, though.”

He glanced at the stack of folders on his desk. Quite a few of them were leftovers from previous assignments, files that had already been submitted and reviewed but not archived; the only one that was involved in the current case was the half-finished crime report folder on top, which he was three pages away from finishing.

“Not enough. Go ahead without me - and give my regards to Sae.”

Makoto was not convinced. "You've been staying late for the past few days, now. Surely you'd have _some_ free time on your hands." 

If Goro didn't know any better, he'd take that as a clumsy attempt at asking him out on a date. Fortunately, he _did_ know better and he did know how to listen closely to people when they talked. 

Of course she would be the first one catch on to what he was doing... Makoto had been constantly checking up on him for the past week, so she would know if he was consistently staying late at work or not. She was also, coincidentally, the person that Goro had to submit all the reports he made to. So she would definitely notice if he was doing work or if he was just bluffing about work that he had already finished. 

Goro chided himself for underestimating her attention to detail. 

"Ah. You caught me there." He chuckled.

The brunette frowned. "Akechi-kun, if you keep this up I'm going to have to force you to take a leave."

"You wouldn't dare." He challenged her with a smirk. 

Makoto met his taunt with silence. 

Because he was right - and Goro knew he was right. A certain someone made sure that he was the _only_ detective working in that precinct, no matter how many people applied for or were qualified to hold that position. He was the only detective in their area, for better or for worse, and his absence would definitely cost them the manpower. 

That fact wasn't anything to boast about when Goro was almost always working himself to near complete exhaustion, but he liked hanging the fact over Makoto's head to keep her from getting too carried away with her threats. He may not have liked doing unnecessary overtime, but he was still choosing to do it. He was choosing to stay at the station late for his own reasons and she was _not_ going to interfere with his decisions. Good intentions be damned. 

"I'll be all right." Goro turned away from her when the silence got too uncomfortable. "I'll just finish the report and go. It won't take long." 

"Are you sure?” Makoto sounded hesitant.

“Positive.”

Makoto finally seemed to realize that no amount of her coaxing would be able to divorce him from his worktable. She sighed and shook her head.

“Don’t forget to take it easy sometimes, okay?”

“Have a good night,” he told her amicably. 

Goro listened to her footsteps die down as he worked, once again deferring to auto-pilot as he listed down key details from the witness interviews. 

Her concern for him was touching, he supposed. Especially considering how they were barely even friends. Goro hasn’t really spent time with her outside of work - which was a normal thing, to not be friendly with your co-workers, but he didn’t even count as just a co-worker. He’s spent so much time with Sae (and by extension Makoto herself) in his university days that she was more of a sister than anything else. 

But anyways, back to work. 

_Ten gunshot wounds in total…_

Goro had hoped that the report would occupy more of his time, but he had severely underestimated how quick and efficient he was at writing down reports. He finished within an hour after Makoto left, leaving him idling in his office with nothing to do to pass the time. He spent ten minutes trying to fall asleep at his desk. Then he spent five minutes staring at the ceiling of his office (there was a concerning scorch mark near the lightbulb). Then he spent two minutes staring at the watch on his wrist, counting every second that the second hand ticked away. None of those activities were very productive or all that effective at passing time; all they managed to do was give him a headache and make time pass much slower.

He spent a lot of time doing nothing but idle, and pissed him off a great deal.

Still, he stayed. He stayed at the station even though he had absolutely nothing to do because Goro didn’t really want to leave. Well, to be more precise Goro didn't want to go _home_. Going home meant being available to answer his private phone, or having to read through unmarked letters amidst that month's rent and utility bills. Plus there was the possibility that someone would be waiting for him when he got home… 

“Detective?”

Goro turned to the silhouette in the frosted glass set into his office door. It had been exactly an hour and thirty minute since Makoto left, according to his watch.

“Yes?” He called out.

“U-um,” Goro didn’t recognize the hesitant voice, maybe a new recruit? “Chief Nijima asked me to check on you, and um…”

 _Shit._ “Is she here?”

“No, um, she called a little earlier. She told me to tell you to go home, Sir.”

Ah, _of course_. Leave it to Makoto to find a way to threaten him from afar.

Goro weighed his options. If he stayed any longer, Makoto would clearly keep calling on the station to try and force him to go home - and that would not be a fun time for anyone involved. It would be an inconvenience for the officers who would have to keep taking the calls and very inconvenient for _him_ , who would have to keep receiving those messages from nervous officers who could barely even speak a word from him (or worse, concerned officers who would try to persuade him more than they needed to). 

On the other hand, if he left… He checked his watch briefly.

11:34 pm.

It was still early. Forget encountering someone waiting at home, what if there was someone waiting outside the station for him? It wouldn’t be the first time.

_Dammit._

“All right, all right. I’ll be leaving in a bit, just give me some time to fix my belongings.”

“Yes sir. I’ll tell her, sir.”

Choosing to leave was the lesser evil because it inconvenienced less people, but it sure as hell was going to turn out terrible for him in the off chance that -

“Detective!”

\- he was completely wrong.

Goro stood at the top of the steps of the station, his entire body seizing up at the sound of that familiar voice. The past two weeks of not encountering that menacing man in the suit were a peaceful reprieve that he didn’t appreciate enough. 

“I was wondering when you’d come out.” The man smirked, looking menacing even in the murky glow of the streetlight overhead. “Working hard, Akechi?”

Goro didn't really know what his name was, but he recognized the man’s appearance. That crisp black suit and those damn sunglasses _at night_ … Just like the maid at that morning’s crime scene had described. Even without that description, though, he would recognize the man’s face. There were only a handful of “professional” hitmen working within the city (not including the temporary fixes that had to be employed to throw off the police every now and again), and he's seen every single one of them at least once. 

He regarded the man with much disdain. “I’m sorry, but my shift is _over_. Bother me in the daytime like everyone else.”

"Now wait just a minute," 

Goro ignored him jogged quickly down the steps and tried to walk past the man - which was a stupid thing to hope for, but it was late and he wasn’t thinking straight. A day of murder and paperwork was as tiring as it was common. As expected, though, the man grabbed him by the arm and held him stubbornly in place.

"Now, now… I'm trying to play nice here, you brat." 

_Brat._ "Fuck off," he snarled. 

"What a mouth."

Now thoroughly irritated, Goro grabbed the man's wrist with the full intent of breaking it when he heard the distinct _click_ of a gun's safety being disengaged.

_Shit._

"Don't get carried away now, kid. Don't even _think_ about anything funny." 

Goro grit his teeth and glanced at the weapon from the corners of his eyes. The guy wasn't even trying to hide it. It was just there in plain sight, glinting in the murky glow of the streetlight. 

_The audacity_ of this man, and right in front of a goddamn police station.

“Just tell me what the hell you want.” He hissed behind his teeth.

“See? Was that so hard?”

The pistol didn’t go away. He tensed up when he felt the barrel of it digging into his side through his coat; it took a good chunk of self-control not to seize it and punch him in the face. 

“There’s this new group making rounds in the city. Nothing serious yet, just a couple of petty thefts here and there.”

“So why is this any of _my_ concern?” Goro demanded. “I am _busy_ . I have _a day job_ , unlike the rest of you.”

“You’re taking the job because it was given to _you_ and you specifically. If you don’t want it, I could always just put a bullet in you instead. Do you prefer that?”

Goro debated with himself whether or not he wanted to call the guy’s bluff. If the job was truly urgent and meant only for him, Shido likely wouldn’t put out a hit in the off-chance that he refused to do the job - which he wasn’t. He wasn’t refusing, just… clarifying. Getting shot to death wasn’t just the only possible outcome of this, though. Goro very well knew that he could get shot non-fatally and just be in a shitload of pain for a long, _long_ time, so there was that.

 _Damn it_. 

“... Just tell me what I have to do and be over with it.” He begrudgingly relented. “I have work tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t worry I won’t keep you long. I’m a courier, not a messenger.”

With one hand, the man reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small manila envelope. There were no labels on it, no stamps, no writing on the outside, but it was thick despite its size. Goro could only imagine how much additional reading he was going to have to put in to deal with that. He felt a part of his soul dying.

“Everything you need to know is in there, apparently. Read through it well, you know the Chief is particular about the small details.”

Goro ignored the comment and swiped the envelope from his hands. “I get it. Can I go?”

“If you so please.” The man chuckled, retracting his armed hand and tucking the pistol back into his coat. “Pleasure doing business with you again, Akechi.”

He grit his teeth and listened as the man made his way back up the street, passing right in front of the police station on his way without even looking at it. These idiots were getting bolder every day, and it made Goro’s blood boil. If he wasn’t constantly in danger of getting assassinated on his way home, he’d be making arrests every single day. Evidence be damned. 

With a terribly exhausted sigh, he tucked the envelope back in his pocket. 

Well... that was his night ruined. 

Such was the troubled life of Detective Goro Akechi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright!! So, here's the fic that I've been agonizing over since... what, May?
> 
> I saw a lot of interested people on Tumblr getting really interested in this au, so I thought I'd blow off some steam by writing it out! As mentioned this AU was partially inspired by Polaris by pastel_didactic, which is a similar premise albeit set in the modern day (it's a great read if you haven't read it already). This fic is set in a vaguely 1920's era, though I haven't managed to showcase it terribly well in this first chapter. Hopefully it gets better as I go on.
> 
> I'll try to post weekly if I can, though I haven't written fanfiction in ages (I think I was like thirteen when I last tried fic writing), so bear with me if I'm a little rusty.
> 
> Anyways, thank you for reading, hope you had a good time!


	2. Playing Goody Gumshoe

Thirty-one pages.

That was the number of pages inside the envelope. _Thirty-one pages of information_ , all of which Goro was required to read lest he missed an important detail and ended up paying for it with his life. 

He braced himself against his dining table and took a deep breath to steady himself. Everything in his sight was listing a little bit to the left - probably owing to the fact that he had gone through another night without sleeping, though that was a trivial issue. He’s gone through worse and he was going to be okay. The important thing was that he managed to finish going through all of the available information in one sitting. 

Once he was sure he wasn’t going to fall over, the detective took a swig from his cup of stale coffee and stared at the three neat stacks that he had divided all of the papers into. 

Kamoshida. Madarame. Kaneshiro.

He wasn’t at all prepared to see the familiar faces of Madarame and Kaneshiro again; not after overseeing their consecutive arrests a few months back. He thought he had seen the last of them when the guilty verdict was proclaimed - after all, what use would they be behind bars? Seeing their pictures mixed in with all the other information had almost triggered a heart attack in him. He thought Shido might have been taunting him, sending him reminders of his failures before an unseen bomb detonated in his apartment and took him out. 

That idea stayed for an all of about five minutes before he realized that it was _late_ and he might have just been going insane. 

He grabbed The pile with Madarame’s picture and skimmed over the pages to make sure he didn’t miss anything. The timeline leading up to his confession and arrest, the list of evidence used against him in court, transcripts of his former pupil’s testimony at the stand… He did the same thing with Kaneshiro’s files, to make sure his memory wasn’t failing him. Everything he remembered about the cases was there and in writing.

Except.

_An undocumented business card, anonymously-submitted photographs._

Goro reached for the final stack of files. The case of Suguru Kamoshida was the only one he wasn’t intimately familiar with; he had been on leave at the time of the investigation and the arrest, attending to other _urgent business_ that he had been contracted to do at the very last minute (like it was easy staging a rigged train crash as an accident). Fortunately despite that, he still vaguely remembered the man being a tabloid mainstay for a good few weeks after he was officially sentenced to jail..

He skimmed through the pages, the evidence, the transcripts, the timeline… and on the very last page, the same statement:

_An undocumented business card, anonymously-submitted photographs._

Goro finished off his coffee and tried not to grimace as coffee grounds flooded his mouth with the final sip.

This was not an issue with him. This was an issue with someone else because he was pretty sure - at least with the cases that he handled - he documented every bit of evidence used in investigations, even if they were submitted by anonymous sources. 

_Someone at the station is withholding evidence._

“Look what the cat dragged in!”

Goro resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Good morning, Lieutenant.”

All things considered, that was a perfectly normal reaction. The detective wasn't an early-bird by choice, always coming in just five or ten minutes before he actually had to; he sure as hell wasn't so enamored with his job that he would arrive to work an hour early like Makoto always did.

“What brings you to the station so early?”

“I want to review some evidence from the Kaneshiro case, in the off-chance it’s related to yesterday’s murder.” He replied, perfectly scripted just as he’d rehearsed in the bathroom mirror.

“You think the Mob did it?” The Lieutenant asked.

"I have my suspicions,"he shrugged. "Besides, who else would be brazen enough to assassinate a prominent politician with witnesses on the premises? Sounds a careless hit man to me.”

Lieutenant laughed. “Aren’t they all?”

 _No,_ Goro wanted to refute. _Not all of them are fucking morons._

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said instead.

The detective headed directly to Evidence Management, flashing his signature charming smile at the recruit working the shift at the Property Office so no questions would be asked. (Though if anyone asked, he could always say that he was checking on yesterday’s evidence). It didn’t take long for him to find the correct evidence boxes, and within twenty minutes he had what he needed.

Buried at the bottom of each box and hidden carefully beneath all the other evidence were three unlabeled envelopes. If Goro wasn't looking too closely he probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all.

He checked the contents every time he found one, though he couldn’t really explain why. Perhaps he was just hoping that the reports he received were wrong, that someone had just been careless and forgot to label the evidence they were putting away (something that happened _all_ the time). Those sentiments never changed what the envelopes held; every envelope held a business card and several photographs, ones that Goro had never seen whether during or after the investigation. 

“Phantom Thieves,” Goro muttered, staring at the logo on the front of the card and the neat, handwritten script beside it.

_Thieves. Plural._

God, as if his job wasn't difficult enough already. One anonymous son of a bitch running around triggering his employer's paranoia was enough trouble to have to deal with. He could barely even find enough evidence to prove that _one_ of them existed… The possible existence of an entire organisation was disconcerting. 

_Wait a moment,_ he chided himself. _You're getting ahead of yourself._

It could just be an empty title. Just because the card said _Phantom Thieves_ it didn't necessarily mean that there was more than one suspect involved in the matter… 

Right? 

_Right._

Goro stowed away all three envelopes in the pockets of his coat. He wasn’t going to examine them in broad daylight when someone could notice that he took them without permission (not that Management ever noticed when things were added or went missing in the boxes). He was going to have to wait until he got home to properly examine them.

There _was_ something else he could do while he was at the station, though...

"Akechi-kun!”

Goro breathed a sigh of relief when he finally found Makoto in her office. She had been away for most of the day on an important meeting so his productive streak had to be put on hold for a little while. By the time she returned to the station, the sun had already set and the detective was already well past tired of waiting. 

“How did the meeting go?”

"Same as always. There’s too much going on in our part of Tokyo…” Makoto shook her head and turned back to him. “Anyways, Officer Moriyama told me you were looking for me?"

"Yes, I was." The brunet replied curtly. 

"What did you need?” 

Goro closed the door to her office and walked up to her desk, still running through the lines he would say in his head. He didn’t often visit the Police Chief’s office - he actually tried to steer clear of it whenever he could. Makoto was the sharpest person in their precinct and if he was even a little complacent in her presence, there was this small possibility that he would cause her to become suspicious. He didn’t need that unnecessary risk hampering his ability to conduct private investigations.

Sadly, Goro was in a predicament that made avoiding her quite difficult. He could probably try finding his own answers, but that would just be a waste of time and effort. 

"Chief, who oversaw the arrest of Suguru Kamoshida?" He asked, planting his hands on the table.

Makoto tilted her head in confusion. "I'm sorry, what?" 

"The university coach who was arrested back in April,” he repeated. “Who was handling the case while I was on leave?" 

Makoto seemed to hesitate - a fact that Goro immediately took mental note of, in case it turned out to be more than just concern for his well-being holding her back. 

“Why the sudden interest? That was months ago.”

“Please answer my question first.” He was running on exactly two minutes of sleep and a shitty cup of cold coffee, so Goro had no time (or patience) to be beating around the bush.

“Um, I believe it was Lieutenant Tanaka who handled the investigation. Again, may I ask why you’ve developed a sudden interest in the matter?”

 _Just as expected._

“I’ve been re-examining the cases of Madarame and Kaneshiro, and something has been bothering me about the evidence collection in those cases.”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

Goro chose his next words carefully. “Some of the evidence that was used both in the investigation and were not collected by the police, yes?”

“Well, some of it wasn’t. As you know we take anonymous tips at the station, and sometimes people send items that turn out to be beneficial for the investigation.”

It took Goro an inordinate amount of willpower to avoid cutting her off mid-sentence. Yes, he knew that. He knew _all of that_ already because he worked at the station just as she did. 

“Yes, well, I know they’re called _anonymous_ for a reason but I’ve been wondering if it’s possible that the three cases - Kamoshida, Madarame, and Kaneshiro, have all been helped along by a single anonymous source.”

Makoto pressed her lips in a very thin line - a gesture that Goro had only ever seen twice. Once during the interrogation of Madarame’s pupil, and once during the trial of Kaneshiro, where she had to testify as a key witness.

"That's an intriguing theory to be sure," she said after a short pause. "I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter, but it's getting a little late…"

Goro frowned. Was it? 

He checked his watch. 9:21 PM. 

_Damn it_. Another day wasted. He sighed tightly and fought against the urge to curse in front of his superior. 

"I'm terribly sorry."

"No worries." Makoto waved him off gently. "If anything, I'm concerned about _you_."

"Me?" Goro feigned surprise. 

"Yes, _you_. You've been working overtime for the past two weeks now, that can't be healthy." She gave him a severe look that, at least to Goro, made her look uncannily like her sister. "You should take a break. Do you want to go out for a drink with me? It's a great way to relieve stress." 

Goro didn't think he had any time to waste on going out to get drunk. He had all the time in the world to do that once he finished his urgent assignment. He really should have been getting home to examine the business cards and the photographs. He's already wasted the entire day doing absolutely nothing, but… 

"All right. If it will appease you, I accept your invitation." 

Makoto smiled, seemingly very pleased with herself. "Great! Let me just get my things." 

Goro told her he would wait outside the station as she got ready. Just so he wouldn't have an anxious break in front of the night-shift officers (or Makoto herself). 

_I shouldn't have agreed to this,_ he thought grudgingly. 

He didn't even like Makoto enough to casually spend time with her; he always thought of her as the kind of person who was more interesting from afar, because clearly Chief Niijima was different from Makoto Niijima. Whatever air of severity and power she asserted over her co-workers was not something she carried over outside of work, as evidenced by how motherly she got whenever she caught Goro staying late. 

Still, he couldn't pass up an opportunity to possibly ease the suspicion he had cast on himself when he pitched his theory about the _single anonymous source_. If he could convince her that he was just overly zealous at his job, enduring this one night would be well worth the effort.

"Sorry for the wait," 

He snapped out of his thoughts as Makoto jogged down the steps of the station. 

"It's no problem." Goro smiled. "So, where are we headed tonight?" 

Makoto shot a glance over her shoulder, as if she was expecting someone to come out of the station to stop them from leaving. When no one did, she gestured for him to follow and started off down the road. 

"Do you drink often, Akechi-kun?" 

"Just Akechi is fine," he told her stiffly. "I like to indulge myself every now and again when I have the time. What about you, Chief? I was under the impression that you were a drag." 

A small laugh escaped the brunette. "Well, if I _was_ a killjoy, it would be awfully hypocritical of me considering one of my friends operates a speakeasy." 

_Wow_ , Goro was almost impressed.

As they made their way down the darkened streets of Tokyo, Goro allowed himself a moment of reprieve to just breathe and share a normal conversation. No talk of evidence, no talk of theories, no talk of arrests or trials. Just inane things, such as apartment rents and the cost of coffee on the market lately. 

Regular things that should have been comforting, but they grated on Goro just a _little_ bit. Every time he entertained a conversation about the new film showing at the cinema or a new record put out by some famous jazz musician, he felt increasingly agitated as if he was a starving dog on a leash being taunted with a slab of meat. 

_Right there._ Makoto was right there beside him, and they were alone on a darkened stretch of road and he could ask her anything he wanted without fear of being overheard by some nosy officers who could be spies for the Mob. He could ask her about the business cards and the pictures. 

_Ask her something important,_ he thought anxiously. _Something that actually matters._

_Ask her about the calling cards._

_Ask._

_Do something._

_Be useful for once._

"Akechi?" 

"Yes?" He said, hoping he didn't sound too strained. 

If Makoto noticed, she didn't let on. "I've been meaning to ask - and please don't take it the wrong way - but don't you have anything else to occupy you besides work?" 

She said _no offense,_ but Goro still felt the full force of the offense - and it almost made him blush terribly. (Thank god he had years of self-control to working in his favor.) He put his free hand in his pocket and considered his words very carefully in case Makoto could see through any flimsy lie he didn't structure well enough. 

"... If you're talking about any rigorous hobbies, I like riding my bicycle through the park sometimes, or going on hikes in the countryside during long weekends off." He replied - which was the honest truth. "Other than that, no. I like to keep distractions at a minimum." 

"And what counts as a distraction, to you?"

"Everything that isn't work." 

Makoto hummed. As if she was actually considering his words, giving them weight, trying to make sense of them. Goro didn't think his sentiments were out of the ordinary… most men at his age and in his profession thought the same thing, unless they were already engaged or married. His boss seemed to think it was intriguing, though. 

"Do you consider drinking a distraction?" 

"A well-warranted one, at the best of times." He shrugged. 

"What are your thoughts on the Prohibition?" 

_Jesus_ , will she never stop? Goro felt like he was being interrogated and he couldn't, for the life of him, rationalize the questions he was being asked. If Makoto was wary of him after their earlier conversation, wouldn't she be asking him more important questions?

"I'm not for it or against it," he managed another casual smile. "Though I can understand the need for it." 

"What a safe answer," she smirked. 

"I like security." 

A small pang of anxiety flared up in the back of Goro's head, like a candle flame in the dark. There _must_ have been some ulterior motive to her questions, a method to the madness… There _must_ be. Makoto was too smart for meaningless small-talk. 

"Oh, here we are" 

The brunette came to a stop. Goro followed suit, surveying the establishment they had arrived at. A dingy neon sign hung over the entrance, casting a gentle blue light over the sidewalk and himself. 

_The Velvet Room_ , the sign read in an intricate, curlicue script. A butterfly sat perched on the first V in velvet, seemingly fluttering its wings every few seconds or so. Goro arched an eyebrow; it almost sounded like the name of a burlesque club, not a pub. The aesthetic certainly didn't seem as intimidating as all the other illegal bars he's been to, and if that was on purpose then Goro was more than a little impressed. 

"Here we are," Makoto told him. "Come on, let's go inside before somebody sees us." 

_All right, last chance._

If Goro wanted to do anything - if he wanted to excuse himself and go home or if he wanted to ask her a question, now was the time. He steeled himself and took a deep breath… 

"Lead the way," he said instead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to put Akira in this chapter, but the investigation phase ran away with me and got too long lol. I've written a good chunk of the next chapter though so it might not take me an entire week before posting this time HAHA. 
> 
> I've tried writing in some 20s slang, but most of them sound so cheesy that I can't incorporate them organically into the dialogue so I'm keeping the usage of them at a minimum. Also, I'm operating on a bit of a 20th Century method of Forensics and Criminology, as the research I did suggested that criminal investigation in the early to mid-twenties was a disorganized nightmare. Goro would definitely be able to get away with murder then but that wouldn't be much fun for the "mystery" haha. 
> 
> Okiee bye lovelies, thanks for reading! Hope you had a fun time


	3. Quiet After Hours

A thin veil of smoke floated over everything inside of the Velvet Room. 

The haze was something that Goro had come to expect of speakeasies and jazz lounges, as he had been to several of them now. Most people who were too scared to drink whatever foul bootleg alcohol was available often turned to the safety of an old reliable cigar. Goro took a shallow breath, fully prepared to feel his throat burn from second-hand nicotine. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the air smelled vaguely of roses instead. 

Makoto led him across the room, weaving between tables lit by candles (a fire hazard, he noted) and patrons who spoke with moderated voices as if they were afraid that someone was listening in. For how many tables there were, Goro realized that a good majority of them were empty. In fact he could probably count the number of customers on one hand. A speakeasy in the middle of the city with less than ten customers... How very strange. 

Well, not that he minded; there was some comfort to be had in the near-emptiness. He didn't have to look over his shoulder as much. 

The bar was at the opposite end of the room, set apart by brighter lights that cast a warm yellow glow over the dozen upon dozens of bottles that lined the inset shelves. Of the eight stools in front of the counter, only one was occupied. The young woman sitting there seemed to be caught in a heated tangent, gesticulating with much fervor as she spoke to the bartender who stood patiently nearby and nodded every so often. Goro couldn’t tell if the patron was completely inebriated and having a one-sided argument or if she was off on a tirade about something unpleasant that happened to her at work.

Either way, he felt quite sorry for the young man who was having to listen. If Goro had been in his place, he would have long ago told the woman to shut up.

“Oh dear,” Makoto sighed. 

The detective arched an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. It just seems that my friend is in quite a predicament, as usual.” She shook her head.

Goro glanced at her, then at the bartender. “Do you mean this is a regular occurrence?”

“Unfortunately.”

As they approached, the bartender finally tore his eyes away from the irate customer. When he caught sight of Makoto his tense shoulders relaxed somewhat, and the neutral set of his lips turned up in a relieved smile. He turned to the customer one last time, ducking his head and offering a brief apology, before walking to the opposite end of the bar where Makoto and Goro had decided to sit.

"Makoto! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

"Good evening, Akira." Makoto smiled as she sat down on one of the barstools. “Hope I didn’t interrupt your _conversation_. It seemed intense,” she teased.

Akira laughed, a thin dusting of pink on his cheeks. “Ah, it was nothing important. Ohya-san is just not great at restraining herself when she has too much to drink.”

Goro tried to make himself scarce as he took his seat. He wondered if Makoto had originally planned to go by herself, to spend time with her friend _alone_ (albeit while he was at work), and she had just invited the detective on a whim. It was highly likely and Goro couldn’t help but feel resentful and embarrassed at the same time.

He should have just gone home. 

"So, are you going to introduce me to your friend, or…?”

Goro looked up to meet his gaze.

“Pardon my manners." He flashed his most charming smile. "I’m Goro Akechi, a friend from work.” 

Akira (that’s what Makoto had called him, right?) smiled back, his stormy grey eyes twinkling in amusement behind his large glasses.

“Ah! The famed _Detective Prince_!”

Goro managed to refrain from covering his face with his hands. He had tried distancing himself from that stupid moniker before he graduated university, and yet its grip over his public image seemed stronger than ever. He briefly considered going after every newspaper and radio station that has ever used that epithet when they put out a report on him, but that would take far too much time and effort - two things he didn’t have enough of as it was.

“I take it you’ve heard of me?”

"I've heard many great things about you." Akira winked. "I'm extremely grateful, as you've done so much work to help out my friends."

Goro arched an eyebrow. Friends? Plural?

“He’s close friends with Madarame’s former pupil, Yusuke Kitagawa.” Makoto informed him.

“Is that so?” _What strange company you keep_ , he thought. “How is he doing now?”

“He’s doing fairly well, considering all the things that have happened. At least he's living on his own terms now."

_On his own terms…_

Goro swallowed hard."I'm truly glad to hear that," he said. It sounded more unsure than he intended. 

Akira paused, the genuine happiness on his face faltering briefly - an instance that the detective noticed, but only barely. It was most obvious in his smile, which dropped off enough that it stopped reaching his eyes. 

_Hm..._

“So!” Akira gushed after the moment of hesitation had passed. “What can I get you?”

“The usual is fine.” Makoto replied.

Goro considered the fact that she frequented the Velvet Room enough to have _a usual_. He didn’t really know how to feel about the fact that his boss, the most uptight person he knew apart from Sae, had more of a social life than he did.

“Akechi? What about you?”

“What would you recommend?”

Akira hummed in thought. “Well, it depends on your threshold and your taste… I don’t suppose you’re against lemons?”

“Not at all.”

“Wonderful. Give me a moment, then.”

The raven turned back to the assortment of liquor on the shelves behind him, his nimble fingers tracing over labels in search of something seemingly specific.

Goro leaned forward on the counter, lacing his fingers beneath his chin. “Didn’t know you had such a broad range of friends, Chief.” He remarked idly.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just a thought. You’re friends with Kitagawa as well, aren’t you?”

“To an extent. Akira and I share a social circle.”

Goro wasn’t in the business of overanalyzing his colleagues - or he refrained from doing it when he wasn’t required to, anyway. Though he found this glimpse into Makoto’s personal life a little too intriguing to let go. He lined all of the pieces he had so far in a row, curiously thinking over each detail as if it had more merit than it did.

Perhaps most interesting to him was the connection between Yusuke and herself; two key witnesses in two recent high-profile cases. He wondered if maybe...

“Speaking of social circles, might you be familiar with the witnesses in the Kamoshida case as well?” He glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. “Takamaki and Sakamoto, if I’m not mistaken. They went to the same university as you did, correct?”

Makoto took a few seconds too long to respond. “I’m acquaintances with them. They’re more of Akira’s friends than mine.”

_A friend of a friend, huh…_

The detective turned to stare at Akira as he prepared their drinks. He had his back to the counter so there was no knowing what kind of expression he was making. From that angle, Goro couldn't tell if he was listening to the conversation they were having (he was standing not too far off). He wondered what kind of person Akira was, to have so many friends with such unfortunate circumstances. Was he a good listener, a nice person? That’s usually the kind of person that troubled people gravitated towards… 

Akira _seemed_ charming and kind, but Goro has made too many mistakes in the past to put much weight on first impressions.

“Pardon me,” Makoto stood up, “but I have to use the restroom.”

“No worries.”

Goro watched her leave. He considered the possibility that she was making an excuse to get away from him despite the fact that her bag was still on her chair and she had ordered a drink. He wouldn’t blame her for it if she was; he’s not exactly the greatest company.

“Sorry for the wait,”

Goro flashed his smile. “Not at all.”

Akira handed him a champagne flute, a short curl of lemon rind balanced on the rim and dipping into the pale yellow liquid inside. Goro did not drink cocktails - he preferred his liquor pure, or at the very least diluted only by ice - so he didn’t actually know what he was being handed. He took it graciously though, much to the young bartender’s delight.

“So what is this?” Goro asked as he tapped his gloved fingers along the side of the glass.

“Take a sip first, tell me what you think.”

No harm in trying. The detective took a tentative sip, conscious of the fact that Akira was still watching him even as he placed another cocktail glass on the counter right in front of Makoto’s seat. The sting of lemon and champagne was the first thing he registered. Then a mildly sweet aftertaste.

“How is it?"

“I don’t hate it. I haven’t had anything like this before,” he replied carefully.

Akira laughed. “It’s a French 75.”

Goro took another sip. It wasn’t that bad, actually. 

“So, Detective, how is work treating you?”

 _Work, work, work._ Perhaps it was his own fault that whenever people looked at him they immediately thought that his occupation was the only contention point he would willingly talk about. (He remembered his earlier conversation with Makoto actually, and decided that yes he was in fact digging his own grave.) 

“Thanklessly, same as always.” He muttered drily.

“Sounds awful,”

“It pays well. It also keeps me occupied, and it allows me to help people in need like your friends.”

Akira picked up a glass and a rag from beneath the counter and began polishing. “Is that really a good enough reward, when you’re working yourself to the bone?”

Goro looked up from his glass, but Akira wasn’t looking at him. The raven-haired young man was too busy putting away the glass he had been wiping and grabbing another one.

“Excuse me?”

Akira glanced at him from over the rim of his glasses. “Makoto tells me about your work all the time. You stay late, you take work home, you do way more than your job description asks of you… Is a sense of self-satisfaction and a barely minimum living wage really enough to keep you going the way you are?”

“Some people would call that humility,”

“Some people are hypocrites and make millions by doing _nothing_.” Akira replied, an edge to his words despite the gentleness of his voice and expression. 

“I take it you’re not a fan of the elites.”

“Not all of them are upstage pricks, but a good lot of them are.” Akira shrugged. “Though I don’t suppose my position makes it look like anything but jealousy or resentment,” he snorted.

Goro chuckled and took a sip from his drink.

He definitely agreed to the sentiment - though where Akira gave a generous leeway and refused to generalize, Goro did not have enough kindness in him to do the same. He’s only ever encountered venomous, conceited magnates - and perhaps it’s just a consequence of his second job, but he has not encountered one exception that could possibly change his mind. Not even outside of his occupation. 

Every high-ranking, high-class, wealthy person he’s ever met was high off their own egos. He wasn’t sparing any of them the benefit of the doubt.

“So what do _you_ think I should do then, Akira?" He smirked. "Should I quit the force, become a private detective?" 

"If you aren't afraid of death, then by all means!" The young man laughed. "Though I feel much better, knowingyou're working with the police."

Goro shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. 

_You shouldn't._

He left when Makoto returned from the restroom, giving the excuse that he was tired (an excuse she happily accepted) and taking the last train home. The carriage he sat in was empty, giving him the chance to either doze off or think. 

_Is it enough to keep you going as you are?_

He did neither. He just sat there and watched the city lights speed off in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update that I wanted to keep contained (─‿─)  
> I was going to make it longer, but well. Keeping it short like this and focusing on Goro's meeting with Akira makes the interaction seem a little weightier. (I say SEEM because that's what it looks like to me at least.)
> 
> In case you're wondering, Makoto's drink is a Corpse Reviver - which sounds badass not just in name but also in the ingredients used for it, and it seems just right for her hahaha.
> 
> Also it has come to my attention that I've been spelling Niijima wrong the entire past chapter so I apologize lol.
> 
> Anyways, that's it for this mini-update!   
> Goodbye lovelies, hope you have a good day/night!


	4. Circumnavigation

_Is it really enough?_

Goro stared forlornly at the dull gray ceiling of his apartment, the beginnings of a headache biting into the space between his eyes.

He would have liked to brush off Akira's comment last night as nothing but idle chatter. That's what he usually did whenever someone tried to lob some profound wisdom at him. It wouldn't be the first time someone asked him if his shitty job was really enough to keep him alive; living so close to downtown Shibuya _was_ quite expensive these days. 

But Akira's phrasing had kept him awake long into the night, even though he knew that it was probably nothing too serious. Even though he _knew_ that some people would say anything to make themselves look intelligent in front of him. 

_Is it really enough to keep you going the way you are?_

Akira didn’t sound like he was putting up a front. He sounded like he could genuinely be concerned about the detective’s well-being… But Goro couldn’t bring himself to believe it was possible for someone to be genuine with him. No one was _that_ genuine.

No one.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and held an arm against his eyes, taking deep and measured breaths to stay that awful feeling that was starting to burrow into his chest.

His alarm was set to go off in fifteen minutes, but he refused to turn it off. He refused to move. He had decided, from the moment he opened his eyes, that he was not going to get up until the clock on his nightstand started ringing. 

Just one moment.

That's all he needed. 

_Do you really have the luxury to waste time like this?_

If only for a handful of minutes, he had to take a break.

_Yes you have time. You have fifteen minutes, that’s enough._

The brunet closed his eyes - though not with the intent of falling asleep. (What would fifteen minutes amount to, anyway? More exhaustion, maybe.) He used the darkness behind his eyelids to try and block out all of the remnants of last night. No voices, no words, no nothing. Just him and the darkness.

It worked for a little while.

Then his alarm clock was ringing. 

Goro briefly considered the repercussions of calling in sick to work and sleeping through the morning. On the upside, he could get back whatever rest he had lost last night and spend the rest of the day focusing on his godforsaken assignment. The only downside was all the work he would have to miss at the station… 

_Come on, Goro._

With a terribly pained groan, the detective sat up and staggered out of bed.

“Oh, Akechi! Good morning!”

Goro put on his brightest smile as he walked up to his landlady. He hadn’t expected her to be sitting in the lobby of their apartment building… He’s never encountered her before when he left the building for work.

“Good morning, Yamada-san. You’re up early today,” he remarked.

The woman snorted. “Not for nothing, dear. I was hoping to catch you before you went to work today,” she informed him, taking a long drag from her cigarette. Thankfully she blew the smoke away from his direction.

"Oh? Why is that?"

He was fairly sure that he had already paid that month's rent, so Goro couldn't think of any other reason as to why she would be waiting for him so early in the morning. 

“Some lady came by last night and left some letters for you." She reached into the pocket of her coat and held out a small bundle of letters, tied with fraying twine. "Said she found it in her mailbox. Postman must've accidentally put it in with her letters or something. I was gonna head up and slip it under your door, but it slipped my mind.”

Goro frowned.

_A woman…?_

“What did she look like?” He asked.

“Eh, some looker with long blond hair. Kinda looked like a foreigner. Seemed kind of young, too. Maybe your age.”

 _My age?_ Goro took the letters, even more concerned than before. A woman his age, possibly delivering his assignment updates… He’s never had his assignment notes delivered by a woman before, let alone a woman his age. Did Shido hire someone new? Possibly. He started having Goro do his bidding when he was still in University, so it didn’t seem like he would be above hiring more young blood in service of his _greater cause_. He didn’t appear to be against hiring women either, but Goro always assumed that he would much rather have them do something else other than petty chores.

Still… The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

If it _was_ an update letter for his mission, why would they go to the trouble of handing it over to his landlady? They’ve never done so before. He’s always received his assignments by hand or over the phone, and if they couldn’t reach him they slipped them under his door along with the rest of his post.

“Thank you, sorry to inconvenience you.”

“It’s no problem!” She reassured him with a kind smile. “People leave things like that all the time, mind. It’s no issue.”

He stowed away the letters in his coat pocket and left quickly, very carefully keeping the irritation from showing on his face. 

Once he was safely within the confines of his office, he took the bundle of letters out and began examining them. In the off-chance that the woman who had delivered them _wasn’t_ a new recruit, he had to check if the letters had been tampered with. If there was even the slightest possibility that his means of communication with Shido had been compromised, he had to report it at once. He wasn’t willing to take the blame for something that wasn’t even his fault.

Of the four letters that were in the bundle, one was from his old university (probably an invitation to speak at an event; he was getting speaking invites a lot, these days) and one was from an unknown address. Goro opened the latter one first even before the unmarked ones purely out of curiosity. He’s never received personal letters before. Or ever, actually.

_Detective,_

_I’ve been informed about your current investigation and am here to offer my services to aid in the investigation. I am the head of a law firm operating in Ginza, and I have some information that might help you find the culprit that you are currently assigned to apprehend._

_I’ll be at my office from 8:00 am to 9:00 pm._

Ginza… 

Goro picked up the envelope again and compared the return address to the header. It did indeed say Ginza, so the man seemed like he was telling the truth. Still, _which_ assignment was he talking about? The latest murder that he still had yet to address, or the Phantom Thieves case? He gave them credit for being purposely vague, in the off-chance that their letters could be intercepted, but it made him wonder all the same.

There probably wasn’t any harm in visiting the man, though. Whether or not he was involved with the rest of Shido’s conspiracy was irrelevant; the man allegedly had information and that’s what was important.

Goro moved on to the unmarked letters. Thankfully, they didn’t _seem_ to be tampered with; the glue on the flap was still holding well and didn’t seem to have been forced open, no other external tears or creases. Just a plain letter envelope, the same thing he received every other week whenever something inconvenient happened and needed to be dealt with. 

This week seemed to be far more exciting than the last, however, as both letters were both notes on two new targets - and urgent ones, judging by how many times the writer mentioned _effective immediately_ in the letter. It was safe to say that they were expecting these new tasks to take precedent over the Phantom Thieves. (Not like he was going anywhere with _that_ case, at the moment. He didn't have a list of suspects yet.)

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, already working out a mental image of the adjustments he had to make for the rest of the week’s schedule. He hasn't taken a day off since April, so he could probably take Sunday off to deal with these new assignments...

The detective groaned, as if rearranging his schedule physically pained him.

_Godammit…_

Well, no use complaining about it now. At least he had their names.

That afternoon, he decided to visit the law firm that had offered to give him information. Makoto seemed hesitant to let him go (it could have easily been a trap, she said - which was a fair thing to assume), but she relented when he promised to go with two other officers. Just in case.

The detective had no intention of letting the them listen in on the conversation, though, so he told them to wait in the car for him.

Outside the door to the office, Goro checked that he had bullets in his revolver before stowing it away. In event that the entire thing _was_ some sort of trap - he doubted it, since there was incriminating evidence on the envelope - he wasn’t going down without a fight. He knocked on the door twice, then let himself inside.

“Good afternoon, do you have an appointment?” The woman minding the front desk asked him.

“Yes, I was told that Sato-san would be waiting for me?” Goro smiled nicely, pulling his wallet out and showing his badge. “I’m Detective Akechi Goro from the TMPD. I was told he had some important information he wanted to share with me.” 

The woman eyed his badge nervously and stood up. She promised to be back shortly before hurrying off across the room, weaving around the many work desks that were lined up in rows behind her. A handful of people looked up from their typewriters and paperwork to peer curiously at Goro. he pretended to check his watch in the meantime, trying to appear nonchalant and unperturbed by the fact that several people were beginning to whisper about him. 

_Just ignore it._

“Detective, he will see you now.”

The Sato Law Firm was on the tenth and final floor of the building it was in, giving it a splendid view of the rest of downtown Ginza from the Sato’s office. Goro took note of the dark clouds gathering along the horizon, thinking back on that morning’s weather forecast. It hadn’t mentioned any rain, so he didn’t bring any umbrella.

“Akechi! So glad to see you so soon,”

Goro turned his attention back to the matter at hand. _Akechi_ , he said casually, as if they were already acquainted. He steeled himself and kept his expression level, even though every inch of his skin was crawling in disgust.

“Yes, well, your words seemed promising.”

“I don’t intend on letting you down,” the bespectacled man chuckled. “Have a seat, get comfortable! I have quite the information that I wish to share with you.”

Apparently, the _assignment_ he was referring to in his letter was the Phantom Thieves. Goro listed down the details in his notebook, making sure to keep his points brief, as the man spoke quickly and with much excitement. He mentioned _Medjed_ , a local street gang infamous for stealing sensitive information and leaking them to tabloids, resulting in numerous scandals and company shutdowns. Apparently they’ve had an influx in cases related to the group lately, which was good for them because it got them paid but at the same time they were getting a little irritated.

“Are you insinuating that Medjed is the same organization as the Phantom Thieves?” Goro asked, halting the conversation briefly.

“I’m not insinuating anything, Detective. I believe that’s _your_ job, I’m merely presenting facts.”

Goro briefly considered the possibility that maybe this Medjed was actually the same entity as the Phantom Thieves. By all accounts, it was completely plausible; they had the same modus operandi of stealing sensitive information, after all… Though the fault in that theory was that the Phantom Thieves have never once associated with news outlets, let alone the tabloids. 

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Sato. I’ll be sure to take this information into consideration,” he bowed slightly in appreciation. “Thank you for reaching out to me.”

“My pleasure!” The man grinned. “I’m glad I was able to be of use to you. Please give Shido-san my regards!"

Goro’s smile almost faltered. “Of course.”

The detective stayed quiet on the drive back to the station, pretending to be completely immersed in his notes when he was barely even reading what he had written in the first place. After hearing all of the details that Sato had to offer, he was fairly sure that Medjed and the Phantom Thieves were not the same - but he was also fairly certain that they were related in some way (he just had to figure out how). He already knew what to make of that lead. He didn’t have to think about it anymore.

_Do I have enough left…?_

He was much more concerned about how he was going to go about his other two jobs. He couldn’t just shoot them and be done with it, even though he wanted to. It had barely even been a week since Sunday’s murder; if he went on a shooting spree now it could put even more pressure on the Mob, and considering how chaotic that organization already was at the loss of their leader he didn’t want to do anything that would complicate things further.

“Akechi, are you staying late again?”

Goro shook his head and closed his notepad. “No. I’m too tired to do that today.”

And really, he was.

“That’s a first.” Makoto laughed behind her hand. “Well, take care on your way home. Thanks for that interview you conducted earlier.”

“No problem Chief.” He saluted jokingly.

When Makoto left, the silence in his office became all-encompassing. The rest of the station, which was only separated from him by a single door, seemed thousands of miles away. Someone was playing music on the radio but the sound was so distant and weak that the harmony was unintelligible, and the voices of the other officers were muffled to the point of not even resembling speech at all. There were sounds, but they didn’t exist in the same space as him. The silence seemed to almost be muting them. On a good day, Goro would have appreciated that quiet; it gave him room to breathe, room to think and make sense of the things around him. Now it just seemed a little lonely.

Goro got up and began packing up his things. He was careful to tuck the unmarked letters in the false panel inside of his suitcase (he would burn them in the tub when he got home). The university letter stayed on his desk. He didn’t want to think about it right now. He threw away the letter from the law firm in the bin without tearing it up.

On his way home he stopped by the hardware store to pick up some rat poison.

He nearly fell asleep on the train. But he didn’t.

_I’ll slip it into her coffee..._

Goro found himself staring forlornly at the dull gray ceiling of his apartment once again, just as he had been that same morning. He was still thinking about how he was going to accomplish his two new jobs, even though he had already figured it out earlier that afternoon at the office.

The silence in his apartment was even more oppressive than it was in his office; at least at the station there was the idle chatter outside, distant but present, and the occasional car passing by out on the street. His building was too far out of the way to experience regular traffic, and his unit was too high up for the bustle of passers-by to drift in through his open bedroom window. All he had to listen to was the ticking of the wall clock over his writing desk. He could have turned on the radio on his nightstand, if he wanted to, but he wasn’t in the mood to wade through static in search for something stupid to listen to. 

_One teaspoon will be enough._

He closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep.

_Are you sure?_

But sleep wouldn’t come for him.

He got up and started pacing around the room, his nerves fraying as he repeatedly assured himself that, yes, one teaspoon of potassium cyanide will be enough and yes it will dissolve in water.

Yes, it will work. It will work for both of them.

_It’s enough. It should be._

It always has been and it will be this time as well.

_It has to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wew I'm late ahahaha. My apologize, I heavily redacted and edited many parts of this chapter. 
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> I'm pretty sure I'm on the NBI watchlist now because of the things I had to google for this chapter lmao. I learned a lot of things about arsenic and cyanide today, though. Lots of things I did not want to learn but have now been made aware of (≖ᴗ≖✿)
> 
> Also, can you imagine if Ann was actually wearing her hair in large pigtails in the 1920s?? A strange image to be sure. Pigtails paired with flapper dresses... Heh
> 
> Thank you for reading, lovelies ♥♥ Hope you have a nice day/afternoon/night!


	5. Trouble Boys

Monday’s forecast was rain.

Goro looked out of the train window tiredly, watching water droplets racing down the glass. He was fairly used to rain by now, but it was _summer_ and it should have been _sunny_ ; it shouldn’t have been grey and maundy and oppressive.

But alas.

“Good morning, Akechi!”

Several officers were crowding by the front desk when he arrived, listening in as the radio announcer rattled off the news reports for the day.

“What’s got you all so excited at this time of the day?” He asked, closing his umbrella and putting it in the bin by the door.

“You haven’t heard? Aiko Miura just died last night. Doctors said it was heart failure.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he remarked. “Who was she, again?”

It had gone well. 

Both targets had been sent to the hospital, with one passing away in the night and leaving the other in a coma. It wasn't the _cleanest_ job he's done thus far, but what mattered was that there was no evidence that he had done it. There was no blood, no fingerprints, no witnesses. 

Easy.

“Nevermind that, Chief wants you in her office.”

Goro frowned. “What for?”

“Briefing.” One of the officers snorted. “For a _special assignment_.”

A chore, most likely. That’s all that his special assignments ever were: menial chores that most of the older officers didn’t want to deal with. Goro stifled and sigh and nodded, walking past them and heading off towards the back of the station. Not much point in fighting them on it. He was too tired.

“You called for me?”

Makoto looked up from her desk. “Oh, yes. Come in.”

Goro closed the door behind him, eyeing the nearly three-inch stack of file folders she had on the right-hand side of her desk. Even on the busiest of days she wouldn’t have _that_ many reports to read through and approve… and rainy days were some of the slowest days that the station ever had, at least from his experience.

“What’s all this, Chief?”

"I have to re-examine a few cases, in light of some… allegations." Makoto replied. .

"Need a hand?" 

"No, not with this at least. There's something else I need for you to do." 

She stood up and began looking through the stack of folders. Goro tried to glance at some of the labels; it was difficult, as it was upside down and she was moving through each one so fast, but of the ones that he managed to read he could tell that his _special assignment_ back in April and the murder from the previous week were included on her to-do list of things that she needed to reevaluate.

It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for Makoto to be revisiting old cases; it had always been a part of her work ethic, even way back when they were still students. The overabundance of wrongful arrests and convictions, many of which were baseless if not completely supported by false evidence, was one of the things she was aiming to correct while she was acting as police chief of their precinct. Despite that, it still made Goro a little ill-at-ease. She didn’t _know_ that he was related to both cases - the cause of one incident, even, but if she were to discover even the smallest of inconsistencies is his report there was the slight possibility that she would.

_Relax, don't think about it too much._

“Ah, here we go.” She nodded, pulling out a folder and handing it to him. The front read _Masamune Reports._ "Masamune-san reported a break-in this morning and he's requested I send someone to investigate."

Goro very narrowly avoided scowling. "Isn't that a rookie's job?"

"The man is paranoid, Akechi. This is the fourth time in the past two weeks that he's reported being broken-into. Right now he thinks the culprit is still in his house." She shook her head. "Besides, you're the only one going to take this seriously." 

Goro had more important matters to take seriously and none of them involved a petty break-in investigation. Unfortunately, the name wasn't one that he could just brush off and forget about; he was fairly sure that one of Shido's close affiliates was named _Masamune_ , and even if it wasn't the same man it would still be a risk to brush it off as nothing.

Besides, it was a series of thefts (and robberies). If there was even the slightest possibility that this was the work of the Phantom Thieves, or hell even Medjed, it would be worth the small effort of making the trip up to Kichijoji. 

So he went. 

He took the train there, foregoing another drive and declining the accompaniment of other officers. Makoto didn't protest this time; his reasoning of possibly scaring off the suspect if more than one person went seemed to be acceptable. (Even though it was a fairly stupid argument.) 

The rain was significantly more forgiving in Kichijoji, only a light drizzle rather than a full-on downpour like it was in central Shibuya. Goro still kept his umbrella open as he walked past the promenade, careful to keep an eye on the civilians in his surroundings. Provided the break-in happened less than an hour before the report was made, the suspect could still possibly be lurking around in the area. If they weren’t stupid - which they likely weren’t, considering how many times they’ve targeted this man without getting caught - they could be lingering in plain sight, dressed in plainclothes just like everybody else.

Goro didn’t have much to go by, but he knew the shifty look of a guilty individual when he saw one. He knew how to look for people who kept their gazes carefully down, their hands in their pocket and their shoulders hunched just slightly…

“Detective?”

He stopped, turning quickly on his heels.

“It _is_ you,” Akira smiled, pushing his glasses up. There were several specks of water on the lens, though he didn’t seem too bothered. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Goro almost didn’t recognize him, owing to the fact that he had most of his unruly black hair hidden under the brim of a newsboy hat. His eyes glanced right over Akira when he was looking through the crowd. 

“Yes, well, my job takes me all over the place.” He offered his own smile. 

Goro lifted his umbrella to lend some shade, and Akira happily ducked underneath the scant cover and stood close. There were already damp patches on the shoulders of his button-up shirt, a few dark spots at the top of his hat. How long has he been walking around in the rain?

“What are you investigating? Is it a murder?”

“Just a break-in, nothing exciting.” Goro shrugged, checking his watch. “You don’t happen to live here, do you?”

“Oh no, no. This neighborhood is too expensive for me to afford.” Akira admitted sheepishly. “I was just shopping in the area, looking for some new clothes and whatnot.”

“I see.”

It would be an understatement to say that it was strange, seeing Akira anywhere else other than behind the bar of the Velvet room. He's never really considered what Akira's life might be like beyond his nighttime occupation. Goro assumed that he slept during the day, just like every other person who worked the night shift. Maybe Akira worked another job.

“Can I walk you somewhere? Seeing as you have no umbrella and all.” Goro offered. 

“Isn’t your investigation urgent?”

It was. Technically.

Makoto didn’t actually mark the report as _urgent_. She just encouraged him to go as soon as possible - which didn’t necessarily mean immediately. Idling by for a moment to help Akira didn’t seem like it would hurt. It’s not as if hurrying to the scene would amount to anything; the culprit would have likely fled the scene by now.

“It’s no trouble,” Goro shrugged, checking his watch.

Akira wasn’t convinced. “Only if we’re heading in the same direction.”

“Well, I’m headed further down this street,” the detective glanced over his shoulder. “If you’re headed that way too, then it won’t be a problem.”

It wasn’t. Akira was apparently headed down that direction as well.

Which…didn’t make sense, by all accounts. The station was in the other direction, and so was the promenade. If he was actually going shopping he wouldn’t have been headed towards the residential part of town.

“You mentioned you didn’t live in this area?”

“My friend does.” He replied casually. “She had me promise I’d pick her up before I bought a single article of clothing. Apparently, I have a pretty bland fashion sense.”

Goro snorted. “I don’t know about that. At least you coordinate your colors well.”

“You think so?”

Akira kept as much distance as he could from Goro as they walked - which he appreciated very much, although it made sharing an umbrella a little difficult. He had to hold the umbrella right in between them so his left arm was getting a little damp.

“Your friend seems pretty well-off, to be living in this neighborhood.” He remarked.

“Her family is well-off.” Akira nodded. “Not to discredit the work that she’s done so far, of course. It doesn’t pay well, but her reputation as a model is getting her name around in the industry.”

“She’s a model?”

“Yep!” Akira grinned. “It’s pretty amazing how she manages to keep working through classes... I can barely even do it myself, and I work more hours than she does.”

Goro arched an eyebrow. “Still a student?” 

“Mm-hm. We’ll be finishing in December, though.” 

So they weren’t that actually that far apart in age… Maybe a year or two at most. Goro found that quite interesting.

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology.” He sighed heavily, reaching up and twisting a rogue curl of hair between his fingers. “My parents wanted me to get into medicine, but I’m not interested in becoming a doctor… So this is unfortunately the compromise that I landed with.”

“You don’t sound terribly happy with how things turned out,” Goro observed.

“Well, there were other things I would have wanted to learn about…” Akira admitted sheepishly. “But psychology is fine. I might become a school counselor, if nothing terrible happens this semester.”

“And if something terrible _does_ happen?”

“Then I’ll become a teacher.” Akira shrugged. “Might as well make something out of my degree.”

“Being a teacher doesn’t pay nearly as well as being a psychiatrist, though.”

Akira shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I told you, getting into medicine is not what I’m studying psychology for… and besides, there’s a severe lack of teachers, these days. I have eight classes, but only two teachers for all of them.”

“That sounds terrible,”

“It is. That’s why I’d rather be a teacher.”

A school counselor or a teacher, huh…? Goro was almost impressed, considering how this was the same man who operated a speakeasy after hours. (It was doubly egregious now, he supposed, having found out that Akira was also still in university.) 

“You have very noble pursuits in mind,” he smiled. It felt more strained than usual.

“Thank you, but I wouldn’t exactly call it _noble_.”

Goro arched an eyebrow. “What would you call it, then?”

Akira hummed for a moment. “I don’t know, an action? Just a decision I made, that’s all.” His sweet smile returned. “It’s not _a noble pursuit_ or anything of the sort. It’s just me choosing to do something. That’s more than could be said for most people, no?”

Goro felt something unpleasant crawling around beneath his skin. 

He stopped walking - which meant Akira had to stop walking as well.

Goro stared at Akira, and Akira stared right back at him.

He could almost _swear_ that the raven was purposely choosing his words to set Goro off. There has to be a limit to coincidence.

“Is something the matter?” Akira asked, looking slightly concerned.

“Oh, nothing, I assure you. It’s just…” He chose his words very carefully. “... You have quite a different way of looking at things.”

“What, because I don’t conflate my actions with a greater meaning?” He smirked. “Come now, Detective. You said so yourself, some people call that _humility_.”

Goro refrained from saying anything else the rest of the way. He wasn’t sure his blood pressure would be able to endure any more discourse with Akira, at least not before he cooled down a little bit. Getting into a public altercation was not something he wanted while he was out on an investigation.

“Well, this is where we part ways.”

It was Akira who broke the silence, in the end. He stepped away from the safety of the umbrella and underneath the awning of the building they had stopped at, his expression somewhere in the space between thoughtful and troubled. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” the raven finally said after several seconds of nothing.

He was sharper than Goro gave him credit for.

“You didn’t. You had me thinking, is all.” He flashed his most charming smile. “The way you think is very… _interesting_ , to say the least.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Akira laughed, seemingly unperturbed. “See you around.”

Goro waved back, but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to see Akira around.

Not really.

Ten minutes later, he was standing in front of the Masamune residence.

He took a mental step back and reverted to auto-pilot as he took statements from a very irritated, very nervous man who was maybe only a decade older than he was. Details about a window latch that had been tampered with and an open back door went in one ear and exited out the other. He didn’t really need to know how frightened Masamune had been when he heard doors opening and closing in his supposedly empty house; all he needed to know was where the broken window was, and where the missing documents had been prior to being stolen.

Once he had everything he needed, Goro told Masamune to stay out in the yard and went inside the house. He doubted the suspect was still there, but well. Precautions had to be taken still. (He didn’t need anyone breathing over his shoulder either.)

_You said so yourself…_

Goro bit down on the inside of his cheek as he examined the living room walls, taking note of the rectangular patches where the wallpaper was lighter, less worn. A bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree, and several other certificates had been taken, frame and all. Just like it was stated in the reports that Makoto gave him.

_It’s just me choosing to do something._

He took note of the window hanging open in the kitchen. Big enough for a person to fit through, especially since there were no bars over it. When he tried to close it he realized that there was nothing to close it with; the latch had been screwed off and wasn't anywhere in sight. As for the back door, he found a piece of folded paper jammed into the gap in the strike plate of the doorknob, ensuring that the door closed, but didn’t lock. No latch, no lock, easy entry.

_That’s all it is._

“Goddammit,” he muttered, closing his eyes for a moment and digging his fingers into his palms. If he hadn’t been wearing gloves there probably would have been blood.

_Stop thinking._

He didn’t think when he worked. He didn’t need to. He had habits, he had routine.

_Don’t think._

It took a few moments. It always did, even in the morning when he’s just woken up. The only difference was that this time he couldn’t just run the cold water in the shower and stand underneath it until he was awake enough to control his own head.

It took a few moments.

Then he was okay. (For the most part.)

Goro made his way upstairs.

_Just forget about it._

The thoughts followed him to the second floor, though for the most part he was able to keep them at bay. He managed to push them to the back of his mind as he rifled through the false panel in the night stand of the master bedroom (checkbooks and several receipts had been taken). He examined the locked drawer in the writing desk in the office (lock was picked; journal was gone) and managed to ignore them as he tried to pick the lock for himself. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on the task at hand, his head kept circling back to Akira and the things that he had said. 

_It’s just an action. Nothing noble about it._

_Bullshit_ , he wanted to say. Goro had zero intention of believing that Akira was that simple-minded.

He couldn’t have been.

To be able to get under Goro’s skin like that… He couldn’t have been simple-minded enough not to find even _some_ form of self-satisfaction or gratification from the decisions he makes. Even Goro to an extent felt some pride in what he did, even though half of the cases he solved were of his own doing. Even though he was a fraud -

No one is _that_ simple.

Not even someone like him.

Goro shook his head and stood up, finished with examining the writing desk. He didn’t have time to idle by like this. He didn’t have time to think. 

All he had to do was work.

He made his way back to the door - which he had left wide open - and walked out into the hall…

… just in time to spot the dark figure retreating into the master bedroom at the opposite end of the corridor. 

Goro stilled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention.

_That…_

He strained his ears, perhaps in the hopes of hearing any out-of-place sounds. But the floor was carpeted and there was so much wallpaper layered on the walls that he couldn’t hear a damn thing. He hadn’t even heard that someone was walking around in the hall while he was in the office, and he had left the door ajar.

 _Fucking hell,_ that wreck of a man was right. They _were_ still in his house.

Goro began walking carefully back up to the master bedroom, pulling his revolver out of his shoulder holster but keeping his finger on the trigger guard. No need to scare the neighborhood with a gunshot; if worst comes to worst, he was just going to try and clock the intruder with the grip.

The door wasn’t closed all the way through - which wasn’t how he had left it, when he finished with his investigation. He made sure there wasn’t anything jamming the doorknob and he made sure it was flush against the doorway when he pulled it closed behind him. Goro swallowed hard, his pulse roaring through his ears as he pushed open the door slowly.

The wood hit the wall without any hindrance. At least he knew there wasn’t anyone hiding behind it.

Goro crept into the room, minding the way the floorboards creaked under foot even through the carpet. The window across the room was open, the stained white curtains fluttering in the wind. Goro ignored it and checked under the bed. That window faced the yard; if anyone had tried jumping through it then Masamune would have noticed and started yelling, considering how nervous he was still acting. There was no one underneath the bed.

No one underneath the bed. No one behind the door.

Goro stood back up and turned around in a complete circle, taking note of the objects in the room. Bed, nightstand, windows, wardrobe…

 _Fuck,_ his grip in his weapon tightened.

Definitely the wardrobe.

He raised his gun and crossed the room, walking slowly towards the hulking mass of wood. So far it hadn’t started moving yet. He stared at himself in the full-length mirror, trying not to notice how comedic he looked, training the barrel of his revolver on an inanimate object. 

Nowhere else to hide.

He closed the door on his way. Locked the knob. 

_Calm down._

He considered putting his finger on the trigger.

_Don’t get excited._

He kept it on the trigger guard.

Once he was close enough he stopped, lowering his armed hand just a little bit in a moment of hesitation. His heart was still hammering, cold sweat still trickling down his back. He’s never fought close-quarters before. He’s only ever fought in narrow but long alleys with an escape route behind him, in sprawling avenues with parked streetcars and storefronts to use for cover. He’s never fought in a room with a locked door on one end and a twenty-foot drop on the other. He didn’t know if he would be any good and -

 _Fuck it_ , fuck that. There was a first time for everything. 

He reached out -

Goro just barely managed to throw himself out of the way as the doors of the wardrobe burst open. He crashed into the night stand, the corner of it digging into his side and drawing out several curses from between his grit teeth. 

The dark figure surged forward, red-gloved hands making a grab for him. Goro had just a quarter of a second to tip the night stand right into his path, delaying the intruder’s advance just long enough for Goro to find his footing and take aim -

_Don’t shoot,_

Goro veered hard to the right as the intruder lunged right across the toppled bedside table. The detective brought down the grip of his gun, fully intending to knock into the back of t heir skull, but he had moved a little too slow and hit the intruder in the shoulder blade instead.

“Shit -!”

Goro grabbed them by the hood and tossed them onto the floor, in front of him.

 _You can shoot and call it self-defense,_ he recalled the Lieutenant telling him.

He could shoot and it wouldn’t matter.

“Hands up,” he commanded.

The intruder complied, watching him intently.

_He could shoot and be done with it._

“What’s the matter, not gonna shoot?” They asked, eyes twinkling despite the shadow the hood of their coat was casting over their face.

Goro grit his teeth and resolved to move his finger from the trigger guard.

_One shot, that’s all it takes._

The dark figure snatched something off the floor near his head and hurled it right at Goro. He ducked, narrowly avoiding getting nailed in the face by a large wooden desk clock. The intruder scrambled back up onto their feet, grabbing Goro by the shoulders and throwing him onto the bed. His head hit the stiff mattress hard and jarred his vision, his hold on his revolver growing slack just long enough for his assailant to grab it and throw it across the room. There was no thud to signal where it went.

Goro squirmed as the dark figure pinned him down by the arms.

“Relax,” they said, their deep voice calm and collected. “I’m not looking for a fight.”

Too bad Goro was.

He jerked his legs up and kneed the stranger right in the stomach, kicking their legs out from under them and using all of his strength to roll themselves over so he was on top and straddling.

“Don’t get too cocky.” Goro threw back, his chest heaving from his laboured breaths.

Steel grey eyes looked on at him, not even the slightest bit surprised. “Oh Detective, it wasn’t my intention to underestimate you.”

 _Detective,_ he said.

Goro stared hard at the intruder. They had a stupid white domino mask on - which shouldn’t have done _anything_ to obscure their face, but combined with the hood on their black trenchcoat, it was doing a pretty good job at concealing their more recognizeable features.

“You’re awfully quiet,” they snorted. “Aren’t you gonna interrogate me? Ask me who I am, try to get me to talk?”

Goro reached out to grab the edge of his mask.

The dark figure grabbed the pillow beside him and smacked it full force into the side of Goro's head, knocking him off balance and slipping right off the bed. He fell to the floor shoulder-first, quickly clambering to his feet as the intruder brandished their makeshift weapon.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Detective, I told you,” they repeated.

Goro examined the room carefully. Behind him was the door. Behind the intruder, the window. 

“Are you part of the Phantom Thieves?” He finally relented, his face burning in frustration. Even though he was the one demanding answers he had lost.

“Ah, you’ve heard of us?” They smirked. “Yes, as it so happens. You may call me Joker.”

 _What a fucking clown,_ he thought, eyeing the room in search for his weapon. “Why did you come back? You have got to be the stupidest thief I’ve ever had the displeasure of encountering.”

“Well, I heard you were in the neighborhood,” Joker winked. “I’ve been curious about you, dear Detective. I wanted to see you in action.”

Goro finally spotted his revolver at the bottom of the wardrobe, the handle sticking out among several pairs of shoes. If he could get to it…

“I’ve been wondering,” he began, slowly walking sideways across the room. “I understand going after people like Madarame and Kaneshiro, but why Masamune?” 

Joker followed his movements, but didn’t make a move to stop him. “Chitchat? Well, I don’t mind, but that’s kind of a pointless question on your part. I’d have thought you’d demand me my real name.”

 _Just a bit more_.

“I’m well aware that Masamune has… unsavory connections, but compared to your past three targets he’s _nobody_.”

Joker reached into the pocket of his coat with one hand before throwing down several pictures on the floor. Goro was a little far away, but his eyesight was sharp enough that he could make out figures, details. Masamune handing a manila envelope to a woman over a cup of coffee, taking photographs from the inside of his car… Pictures that, without context, seemed normal enough on their own, but he knew that there was something else to those photographs. Other information that would change the image entirely.

“I assume you’re familiar with Medjed?”

“What about them…?” 

_Just a few more steps._

“Well, I’m good friends with those people, and they’re not responsible for the recent surge in thefts and information leaks. Masamune is.”

Goro stopped moving just long enough to narrow his eyes at the thief. “What makes you think I’ll believe you?”

“You will.”

Goro grabbed his gun as fast as he could and took aim, but as soon as he had his arm up Joker threw the pillow in his direction. An explosion of feathers blinded him for just a second before Goro found himself pinned to the door of the wardrobe, the wicked edge of a silver dagger looming dangerously at his throat.

 _Dammit_ , he hissed.

Joker grinned mischievously up at him. Though he had nothing to smug about; the barrel of the revolver was trained point-blank on his chest. If he tried to kill Goro, he would suffer the same fate.

“Tomorrow, at eight in the evening, everything we took will be returned to this house. Every piece of evidence that has been reported missing will be back in its place, and Masamune will confess.”

“Bullshit.”

Joker shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”

He lowered his knife, holding his hands up and taking several, agonizingly slow steps backwards.

_Shoot him._

Goro had a clear shot. If he pulled the trigger, he could kill Joker on the spot and be done with it.

“Honor among thieves, Detective.” Joker warned, stowing away his blade into the scabbard hanging on his belt. He held his hands up, his red gloves absurdly loud underneath the dull fluorescent light.

Goro kept his gun aimed, his finger on the trigger and ready to pull.

_Do it._

_Come on._

Joker smiled. “See you!”

The sharp crack of gunfire left Goro’s ears ringing. The bullet hit the opposite wall, leaving a nasty hole in the plaster and wallpaper.

“Shit,” the detective hissed, staring at the open window that the thief had jumped through.

Should have closed that when he had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of splitting this up into two chapters, but well. Here we are! The concept for this chapter got me really excited so I finished this chapter early and am posting this chapter early nyehehehe (◕▿◕✿)
> 
> This is my first time writing an actual choreographed fight scene, so if some things sound a little janky I apologize! I'm still studying action writing ahaha. 
> 
> Fun fact of the day: Models were actually called mannequins in the 1920s, but I kinda don't like that word so I ended up saying models anyway. ^^
> 
> ♡ Thank you for reading lovelies, hope you have a nice day/afternoon/evening wherever you are! ♡


	6. Mercurial

“I don’t know who it was,”

Goro pushed his chair back and stood up, grinding his teeth to dust in his mouth in an attempt to keep his temper at bay. He was only a half-step away from completely losing it and yelling in the interrogation room – which would have been fine, if he didn’t have a reputation to uphold. He was the only officer left who hasn’t buckled under the pressure of a stubborn or useless suspect. Even Makoto has yelled inside the interrogation room at least once.

He wasn’t going to do that. He was better than that.

“If you’d rather go to jail, be my guest.”

Masamune shook his head. Nothing left to say.

Goro turned quickly and left the room. If he stayed any longer he would have thrown a punch.

“Are you done with him, Detective?”

Goro tugged at the cuffs of his gloves. “He doesn’t have anything of substance to say. Throw him in whatever cell you want.”

The Lieutenant laughed. “Told you he wasn’t worth the effort.”

Goro turned around and walked.

Tuesday, 8:34 pm.

He made his way down the hall, marching in a very purposeful line back to the station proper and towards Makoto’s office. She was the only other person in the station who was actually taking this entire incident seriously, and she was the only other person he wanted to talk to right now. If anyone else tried to say a word to him he was going to pull back and sock them in the jaw.

He did not have the time.

“Chief, have you finished examining the reports?”

Makoto looked up from her cluttered desk. Lawsuit reports and newspaper back-issues were stacked in teetering towers on the tabletop, things that she had requested after they took Masamune’s initial statement earlier that night. Goro had been reluctant to give her the paperwork that he had acquired from the law firm that tipped him off last week, but keeping them to himself would have only harmed him in the end. He sorely regretted even requesting them in the first place; if he never had that evidence on-hand, the arrest probably wouldn’t be going as smoothly as it was now.

“Almost.” She shook her head apologetically. “I’ve been trying to reach the people he mentioned, but most of the radio stations and newspaper companies have already closed for the night. However, even without their statements… The clippings and the reports have coincided with what he’s said so far.”

 _Fucking hell_.

There was too much damning evidence for him to be able to avoid getting Masamune thrown in jail. There was even a _confession_ , which was already the greatest handicap in the situation; if it was just evidence, then he could have just gotten rid of the records and waved it off as circumstantial. But this time he just couldn’t. Even if he pulled off a miracle the odds would still be against his favor.

He was absolutely _fucked_ when Shido inevitably hears about this in the news.

“What about you, any progress on the interrogation?”

“As far as he’s concerned, he’s never seen the intruder.” Goro crossed his arms. “I’m going over to the house to investigate, in case there was some evidence I overlooked yesterday.”

Makoto frowned. “Now?”

“ _Now_. The sooner the better.”

No one has been back to the house since yesterday’s incident, not after Goro was forced to call for a proper investigation team after shooting at the wall and letting the culprit get away. There was no point coming back; there was nothing left to investigate, nothing left to take note of after the dead-end sweep that followed the investigation. 

Of course no one else but Goro knew about what Joker had said. 

“Akechi, it’s late.” She argued, standing up like it would lend her some swaying power. “It’s not an urgent case, anyway. An investigation can wait until tomorrow.”

She was right, it wasn’t an urgent case. It wasn’t an urgent case because he had neglected to tell anyone about what Joker had said, and the detective had been on the fence about that ever since yesterday; on the one hand, staying quiet saved him the embarrassment of having to describe how a thief wearing a goddamn domino mask of all things told him the exact hour that a criminal would turn himself in. On the other, it completely cost him the chance to catch that phantom once and for all. He stewed over that trade-off the entire night, not quite regretting what he did but also feeling quite slighted. It felt like Joker had grabbed his pride by the ankles and swung it full-force into a wall

 _You will_ , Joker told him.

Goro still didn’t believe a single word. Even now, after one of his grand proclamations has just happened and right on time, the detective didn’t believe in anything but the very slim possibility that it all might just be some convoluted coincidence.

He needed to examine the house before he even considered the possibility of believing.

"Yesterday I went to the house and the thief was there." Goro replied, determined to persuade her into letting him go. "In the off-chance that this is again his work or anyone else’s, I’m not missing the chance to put them in handcuffs.”

Makoto’s eye twitched, ever so slightly. “What are you insinuating?”

“What do you _think_ I’m insinuating?” Goro challenged. “Don’t tell me you honestly believe that this is a good-natured confession.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. Goro continued.

“Masamune spent two weeks reporting thefts, in a completely unreliable state of paranoia and fear, then he suddenly turns himself in.” The detective glared hard at her. “He was either _threatened_ or _blackmailed_. There is no other natural conclusion to be had in this situation.”

For an agonizingly long moment, neither of them spoke.

Goro waited – even though he was growing increasingly more agitated with every second ticked away by the wall clock nearby. Every second lost was a second that that masked thief got away. Perhaps if he actually told Makoto about what that man had said…

_No._

Until he knew which of the officers in the station were involved with the Phantom Thieves, he wasn’t going to clue anyone in on his private investigation. He couldn’t risk it.

When Makoto finally spoke again, her voice was hesitant - but only just so. Enough for Goro to notice, at least. He’s been dealing with Makoto for long enough to realize when her facade was starting to wilt under pressure; no amount of arm-crossing and glaring would deceive him.

“Do you think that petty thief from yesterday is involved in Masamune’s sudden confession?”

“Well, it’s merely speculation.” He shook his head. “Forgive me if I’m getting ahead of myself, but this thief has been targeting Masamune for two weeks straight. It wouldn’t surprise me if the items he was taking played a part in forcing a confession.”

“... I admit, that is a very viable possibility.” She finally relented, her expression twisted into a troubled expression. “However, I still can’t allow you to conduct an investigation at this time.”

Goro’s own pleasant front took a sizable hit, and he couldn’t bite back the displeasure from creeping into his voice when he said, “Why? You said so yourself -”

“I know what I said.” Makoto steeled herself, planting her hands on her table and sighing heavily. “It still stands that this is _not_ an urgent case and you’re already off-duty.”

“That’s -”

“Akechi, I’m serious.” Makoto interrupted, her voice severe and unflinching. “This is not a contention point, this is a command. I’ve already assigned the arrest report to Lieutenant Tanaka and Deputy Shirogane is already dealing with the rest. Please, _go home_ or I will force you to take a paid leave for the week.”

She sounded serious this time with the threat of leave.

The pair stared at each other for a tense moment, static clouding the air between them and threatening to start up a thunderstorm within the confines of her office. Goro couldn’t remember the last time they had an argument like this. They’ve definitely been in similar straits, especially during their first interactions in university, but he doesn’t remember Makoto ever having the upper hand in any of their scuffles.

Goro grit his teeth and dug his fingers into his palm, biting back the protests climbing up his throat. 

“... Fine,” he relented begrudgingly. 

Makoto looked relieved as she sat back down in her chair. “Thank you. Get some rest, I’ll be counting on you tomorrow.”

“Of course, Chief. Have a good night as well.”

Goro walked out of the office with a sour taste in his mouth.

On paper, it didn’t exactly matter whether or not he handled the Masamune case; he was still going to be in charge of the cursory investigation that would follow and he was going to have to supplement the physical evidence he provided with possible interviews and witness statements. So it’s not as if he was out of a job...

That didn’t really help him feel better.

Goro leaned back against a concrete pillar as he waited for the train. He was still trying to decide whether or not it would be worth the consequence if he went to Ginza now and investigated the house even though he wasn’t sanctioned to. It wouldn’t hurt… would it? 

_You idiot._

Even if he could get away with going there unnoticed by the officers, there were so many other houses in the area. It would only take one glance from a neighbor to get him reported as a suspicious figure. Makoto would immediately know it was him. 

_What now?_

He usually had a back-up plan. Usually. But since yesterday’s encounter with Joker, he hasn’t really had the room to think more than five steps ahead of the present. There was very little maneuvering space between the non-existence of the Phantom Thieves and the very real existence of a spy within the station. Trying to figure out what to do about a threat that didn’t technically exist wasn’t the easiest of tasks, and it was hampered even more by the fact that Goro now had to be wary of tipping off an ally of theirs within the station.

Of course that still wasn’t accounting for the blowback he would have to face after this fourth arrest. He had yet to hear from Shido since they last met in July following Kaneshiro’s arrest, and frankly the prolonged silence was escalating the tension he felt to an unbearable degree. He should probably take this as a cue to check in himself, but well…

That was a disaster that could stand to wait for a few more days. If he even had that long to begin with. The odds that a phone call or a letter would be waiting at his home when he arrived were astoundingly high.

The train pulled into the station then, giving him something to think about for a while. He got on and sat down. The short walk from the police station to the train station had dwindled his frustration down to embers, leaving only the kind of exhaustion that bit into his joints and wrapped around his bones like the beginnings of a bad cold. Thinking helped to distract him for a while as he waited, but now he had the beginnings of a headache and that didn’t help anything. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window and hoped it wouldn’t escalate further than a dull thrum over his right eye.

Goro fell asleep on the train and missed his stop. He had to take a cab the rest of the way home.

“Oh dear! You look a little worse for wear,”

His landlady was lingering in the lobby again, this time talking with one of the other tenants over a cup of coffee. Goro rearranged his expression to be more friendly, since he was pretty sure that he was looking a little glum (though she had clearly already noticed how unfriendly of a mood he was in).

“Just a tiring day at work, Yamada-san.” He reassured her.

“Sorry to hear.” She said worriedly. “I guess it’s good that I told your friend to come back another time, then.”

Goro arched an eyebrow. _I don’t have any friends_ , he almost said, but he wasn’t tired enough to purposely make a fool of himself in front of anyone.

“What did they look like? I don’t believe any of my… friends informed me in advance that they would be visiting. Otherwise, I would have tried to come home sooner.”

“A young man wearing glasses, had black hair…“

 _Akira?_

Why in the world - no, _how_ in the world did Akira know where he lived?

“What time did he stop by?”

“Not that long ago? It’s only been about twenty minutes since, I reckon.”

 _Shit_ , maybe if he hadn’t fallen asleep on the train he would have caught him.

“Thank you, Yamada-san. Again, sorry for the inconvenience!”

He didn’t stick around for long. He rushed up to his apartment and changed out of his uniform before rushing back downstairs and leaving the building. His landlady called out and told him to take care, which he barely even acknowledged. He was far too preoccupied with thinking about Akira.

_How…_

Not even Makoto knew where he lived. He didn’t even leave his address at the station, all he left was his phone number. 

“Good evening - Akechi!”

Goro ignored the pleasantries, marching up to the bar and planting his hands on the counter and leveling his most feral glare at the raven-haired bartender wiping down glasses behind it.

“What were you doing at my apartment?”

Akira blinked. “Oh, um, sorry perhaps I should have… called ahead, uh,”

“Well?”

He wasn’t really angry. If anything, he was more disturbed at the fact that two people - a stranger and barely even an acquaintance, had shown their faces near his home and had actively been looking for him. Even if they turned out to be harmless in the end, just the fact that people _knew_ where he lived was something he took very seriously. Not even the nosiest of tabloid reporters knew where he lived because he went to such great lengths to make sure he was never followed when he went home.

“Listen, I wasn’t snooping on you or anything, um,” Akira reached up and awkwardly held a hand against the back of his neck. “Listen, yesterday evening someone stopped by, asking if you came around - which, of course you haven’t at all, these past few days. He left something, telling me to hand it to you in case you came by, but you never did, so...”

Goro cursed under his breath and tugged anxiously at the cuffs of his gloves.

“Akechi? Are you all right?”

“What did he look like?”

Akira went into detail about what he looked like - from the color of his hair to the state of his suit, to the fact that he was wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night.

_That son of a bitch._

“Hey, don’t get too worked up about it. It’s not your fault he didn’t catch you.” Akira put down the rag he was holding and wiped his hands on his apron.

That wasn’t really the issue. 

The issue was that Goro had been _followed_ on his way to the Velvet Room several nights ago, and he didn’t realize or even stop to think about it at the time. That bastard probably thought that he was slacking off at his job and decided to make sure that he was doing his part.

With a terribly exhausted sigh, he sat down on one of the bar stools and went quiet.

Akira didn’t say anything for a few minutes - and thank god for that. If he had said something, Goro wasn’t quite sure that he would have been able to respond properly. He had exhausted all of his facades earlier in the day.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he shook his head and looked back up at Akira.

“Oh. The thing he left, it had your address on it, so I just… followed it.”

Goro looked up gingerly as Akira reached under the counter and produced a small white envelope not unlike many of the other assignments he had received in the past - however, just as Akira said, his address was written in the back.

_Why?_

Why would it have an address if it was being delivered directly to him? Even with Akira mixed into the equation, it wouldn’t make sense for there to be an address on it. If he had left it with the intention of wanting Akira to hand it over to Goro, why would there be…

Fuck, his head was hurting and he couldn’t think straight.

“I thought I would drop it off before going to work, you know?” Akira continued, a tinge of concern seeping into the spaces between every word he uttered. “I figured you would have been home by then since I stopped by pretty late, but… Well, it didn’t work out. And I didn’t want to give it to your landlady, but well.”

Goro took the envelope gingerly, his heartbeat ringing in his ears. 

He ignored the way Akira watched him open it. Despite his best efforts there was still a slight shake to his hands, and he wanted to think that it was unnoticeable but with how close the young bartender was standing it would have been obvious. As he pulled out the contents two photographs hit the counter, slipping from between the folds of the letter before he could catch it.

“Wow,” Akira mused.

Goro didn’t say anything as he snatched them away. 

One of the photographs was of a young woman, probably around his age, her face peeking out daintily from beneath the wide brim of a sun hat as she exited the car she was riding in. The other was of a man, perhaps in his early to late forties, adjusting his glasses as he read the paper out on the balcony of what looked to be a hotel room. 

Goro had seen both faces before, in many places. Printed in newspapers and magazines, at the dinner parties he had to go to every now and again when Shido required him to engage with his associates, at galas and events where he had to keep an eye out for disguised threats to the guests as part of security…

“Is that your girlfriend?” Akira teased.

Goro rolled his eyes at the juvenile notion. “I hardly even know her.”

“Just kidding. They’re the Okumuras, aren’t they?” He grabbed another glass from beneath the counter and turned his back to the detective.

“I’m surprised you know that.”

“Why? They’re big names. Even if I didn’t want to keep up with the gossip, it would be a little hard to go about my day without being reminded that they exist.”

 _True,_ Goro admitted to himself, but refused to say out loud. Instead, he tucked everything - the photos, the letter, the envelope - back in his pocket. He shouldn't even be having his conversation with Akira in the first place. What the hell was he thinking, opening that envelope in public?

He _wasn’t_ , apparently. He wasn’t thinking.

“I’m sorry for troubling you.” Goro offered. Even though he wasn’t in any mood to be apologizing to Akira. He was still sore from yesterday’s conversation and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to hold his tongue when he felt like someone was running a javelin through his right eye socket.

“It’s no trouble. Sorry for almost barging into your home unannounced.”

Akira turned back to him and placed a glass of water and a piece of paper on the counter in front of him. Goro eyed the suspicious white tablet resting on top of the paper - which prompted a lighthearted laugh from the bartender.

“It’s just a painkiller.” Akira explained with a little smile.

Goro took it into his palm. It didn’t look anything at all like the cyanide pills he had at home (which is what he thought it was), but that didn’t encourage him to drink it. 

“... What made you think I need this?”

Akira’s eyes seemed to twinkle under the low light. Like liquid mercury. “You kept holding your hand up to your head, see?” He demonstrated, brushing back the errant wisps of raven hair that had been hanging low over his eyes. “My friend, Futaba, she does that all the time when she’s starting to get a headache from reading in the dark too much and...”

Goro wasn’t really paying much attention to what he was saying. He was too busy staring at Akira’s eyes, now that they were unobscured by his unruly hair.

Gray.

Akira has gray eyes.

He could probably count the number of people he’s met with gray eyes on one hand. Nearly everyone he’s ever met in his life has brown eyes, save for the handful of foreigners he’s seen in his short lifetime. Even if he wasn’t paying any special attention to Akira’s face it would have been hard not to notice that he was staring right at someone who had eyes the color of construction steel.

 _Joker has gray eyes as well, doesn’t he?_ He thought, something unholy stirring in his stomach and making him feel incredibly ill.

“Akechi?”

Akira stared at him, his eyes wide with worry.

_Gray eyes._

Goro swallowed the pill dry and pushed away the cup of water.

“I’m sorry, I… remembered something I had to do,” he blurted out as he stood.

Akira tilted his head to one side. “Oh, well, that’s fine. Sorry for troubling you.”

_I’m a fucking idiot._

“Thank you again, Akira.” Goro stood up shakily and ducked his head in a clumsy show of gratitude that he didn’t harbor. Saying Akira’s name made his throat sting, left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’ll… see you.”

“Goodbye. Have a nice night, Detective.”

 _Detective_ , he said.

Goro could swear that his smile was more of a smirk, as he left.

_I am such a goddamn idiot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MmmmMM I was on the fence about so many things in this chapter, including the way it ends, but hey at least I've gotten over my slump? (Maybe.) (Hopefully.) Sorry for missing a week! I took a break and watched some anime for a bit before getting back into the swing of things because the chapter just refused to work. Stepping back helped me get back on track, though things still turned out drastically more different than I originally intended for them to be. Ah well.
> 
> Fun fact of the day: I was trying to look up if they had painkillers in the 1920s - and they did. Sort of. What Goro swallowed was essentially just a small dose of opium so yay! Trying to get away with medicine details is significantly harder than the police stuff lol.
> 
> Class starts up again next week, so I'm not sure how regularly I will be able to post (last week's lack of update notwithstanding). But! I will do my best to update once a month if I can't spare time to write every week. (；・∀・)
> 
> Alrighty, thank you for reading, lovelies! Hope you're having a good day/afternoon/evening wherever you are! ♥


	7. In Close Proximity

Goro learned many interesting things about Akira over the next couple of days, as he always does when he’s scoping out a target that he wasn’t already familiar with.

Early in the morning, at around six- or seven-o-clock, Akira would leave his apartment - which sat on the second floor of a small coffee shop in the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya - and go to Tokyo University, where he attended classes from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon. After class, which was usually early or mid-afternoon, he would leave campus - sometimes accompanied by Sakamoto or Takamaki (sometimes both) - and do one of three things: meet up with another friend (often Kitagawa or a young girl with bright orange hair), go home, or go to work.

That last one was a little strange, to Goro. Was his job at the Velvet Room not paying enough?

He tapped his pen along the margins of his notepad as he took a sip from his coffee, leaving a trail of black dots beside Akira’s personal details. Height, complexion, hair color, eye color…

_Gray_.

Observing Akira was fascinating, albeit exhausting. The detective was intrigued by how, when the raven met up with somebody, he acted like a completely different person. Even from afar, Goro could see the change he went through whenever he said goodbye to a friend, the slight slouch that he fell into after holding himself up for too long in one position like a marionette with its strings pulled taut. The short sigh of relief he would let out when his companion was completely out of earshot. It was like watching a continuous one-man play. Curiously, though, Akira never seemed to get tired of playing around like that. 

Goro briefly wondered if the raven ever did that with him; he wondered if the phantom thief’s charismatic playfulness was just an act that he specifically put on when he was with the detective. (Highly likely.)

“... and I’m saying you’re overthinking it. She probably didn’t even notice that you completely forgot to credit your citation!”

“Yeah, but the last time -”

Goro turned the page of his notes as the cafe door swung open, the tiny bells hanging on the frame warning him just in time before -

“Detective!”

Goro turned to Akira and feigned a startled look.. “Akira! What a surprise,”

Akira blinked. "Yeah, ah, I didn't expect to see you... here, um…" 

Goro resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. He couldn't tell if Akira was feigning the awkwardness or if he was just over-analyzing things, but it was hard not to overthink when their last three encounters never involved any _um-_ ing or _ah-_ ing.

The man behind the counter arched an eyebrow. “You know each other?”

“Somewhat.” Akira replied casually. “We met at work.”

“Is that so?”

Goro observed in amusement as Akira’s grumpy companion regarded him with something along the lines of annoyance. He didn’t know exactly _why_ Sakamoto would express such ire towards him, especially when they had only just met, but he had some ideas. There were a select few people that his charm never worked on. A blessed (or cursed) few who saw right through the thin glamour of his PR-friendly facade and took a dislike to him on sight. There was no use getting worked up about people he couldn’t impress.

… is what he _would_ have liked to think, but Goro didn’t really think that way. 

He immediately wondered if Sakamoto was in on the whole Phantom Thieves business, and if he knew - just as their leader did - that Goro was actively pursuing them and _that’s_ why he was acting so aggressively. That was the most likely answer but the detective didn’t have enough evidence to support that claim yet. It was still pending on his subconscious list of speculations.

The blond huffed. “What’s he -” 

Akira elbowed him in the stomach.

“So, how did you find yourself all the way out here, Detective? Investigating the area?” He asked, putting his bag down in one of the booths and shoving his friend onto one of the seats despite his protests. 

“No, not really. I’m off work today.” Goro replied. It was only technically a lie; Fridays and Saturdays were his actual mandatory days off from detective work, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t work on his private investigation. “I wanted a cup of coffee that _actually_ tasted good. I’m admittedly not the best at making any kind of food or beverage, and I remembered that I read about this place in a magazine some few days ago. So I thought I’d stop by.”

“That was a long time ago, kid.” The man behind the counter chuckled. “Hey Akira, watch the store for a while. I need to pick something up for Futaba.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Goro scribbled a little bit in his notes as the two of them switched places, with Akira pulling out an apron from beneath the counter and putting it on as the owner rattled off instructions before leaving. The detective could feel Sakamoto’s gaze burning into his back as he finished up his second cup of coffee for the day. Despite lying about his reason for being there, the coffee at Leblanc truly did taste superior to whatever diluted substitute he always had at the station or the terribly cold and bitter variation he had at home.

“Would you care for a refill?” Akira offered.

“Please and thank you.”

Akira took his cup and began fiddling with the fancy-looking machines sitting along the left-hand side of the counter.

“So do you have any _other_ jobs I’d benefit from knowing about?” Goro teased.

Akira laughed. "Oh, I don’t work here. Well, not anymore, at least. I used to when I started living in Tokyo, but nowadays I just help around whenever I have spare time. Boss likes the company and it saves me the rent, so…” 

“You live in the area?” Goro made a point to act surprised.

“Yep! Right upstairs, actually.”

“Wow. How lucky you are, to wake up to the wonderful aroma of good coffee every day.”

“I assure you, it goes away after the first two weeks.” Akira snorted.

The raven lapsed into silent concentration as he prepared the cup of coffee and a glass of something cold (probably iced tea). Goro observed the way he worked, trying to see Joker in his silhouette when he smiled or when he joked around with Sakamoto. But Goro couldn’t see it. Akira didn’t radiate the same aura that Joker did - though he did speak in the same manner every now and again; he lacked the mystique and intimidation that emanated from the phantom thief in waves. In his plainclothes and in broad daylight, in a small little cafe in the backstreets of a quiet suburban neighborhood, Akira was just an awkward twenty-something with a disarming smile and an endearing laugh.

The detective felt a little better upon realizing that there was such a drastic difference between the cavalier bartender and the elusive phantom thief. It made him feel a little less stupid.

“Here you are my lovely Detective Prince.” Akira smiled as he placed the newly refilled coffee cup down in front of Goro.

“Sorry, but I don’t have any spare change for tips today.”

“Damn, I was sure I’d get you this time.”

Goro actually laughed. “Ask me again in a few weeks, when my paycheck arrives.”

Akira wiped his hands on his apron and left from behind the counter to serve Sakamoto the cold drink he was preparing. Goro pretended to keep writing as the two of them started up a conversation, but eavesdropping didn't glean anything of importance. Most of what they talked about concerned their term papers and theses, mundane things that Goro wanted to forget about; his own university days were still fresh in his mind, and they had not been pleasant in the slightest. He didn’t want to remember them anymore but it was a little hard to forget. 

For a long while, Goro was just stewing over his hot cup of coffee and trying to nonchalantly piece together the possible story behind the Phantom Thieves while their leader was right in front of him and talking about cats.

_A personal vendetta, and irreparable damage…_

Goro tried to imagine Akira as a vengeful sort of entity, but the raven was far too unimpressive, his smile was far too earnest to be anything but real. He tried to imagine Joker next, and it _still_ didn’t fit. If Joker had truly been out for revenge, none of their prior victims would have just been arrested. It took a great deal of mental gymnastics to even be able to think _murder_ and _Joker_ in the same sentence; as menacing as he seemed with a dagger in his hands, Goro thought he seemed more likely to slam the hilt into someone’s head to knock them out rather than to actually stab them with it.

It just… _didn’t make sense_.

“What’s on your mind, Detective?”

Goro looked up. Akira was staring right at him, his right hand twirling a pen idly between his fingers as the crossword puzzle he had been answering lay forgotten on the counter. 

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking about the case I’m working on.”

“Can I be of assistance?”

_Not unless you plan on confessing._

“Thank you for the offer, but I’d rather not trouble you.” Goro smiled in the hopes of deterring him. “Besides, I’m not allowed to discuss details of an ongoing case to civilians. You should know that.”

“Oh, right.” Akira laughed under his breath. It sounded a little embarrassed, a little playful. “Sorry. You just have a very concerning look on your face when you’re lost in thought, to be honest. I got a little worried.”

Goro shook his head and looked away before he could say something rash. “You’re awfully kind to be worrying about a stranger like that. How many times has it been now, three?”

“What’s the harm?”

“Being nosey has killed an awful lot of people, you know.”

“So what?” Akira shrugged and put away the pen and crossword puzzle under the counter. “If I can save one person by being nosey, then I’d gladly risk my neck.”

Goro couldn't tell if the raven was self-aware of the fact that he was putting his savior complex on full display with that single sentence. 

“Akira, may I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

Goro heard Sakamoto shifting behind him like he was getting ready to hit the detective over the head with his glass. 

“Would you consider yourself popular?”

“Oh, er, that...” A hint of pink seeped into Akira’s cheeks. “No, not really. I don’t have many friends. People avoid me at the university I attend, actually.”

“Really?” Goro was genuinely surprised. 

"I don't really blame them… I don't exactly have the greatest track record." 

_Assault, wasn't it?_

Goro wanted to ask what that entire issue was actually about. His research into the raven-haired thief had yielded very little to no results; Akira Kurusu existed on paper, but his birth certificate and criminal conviction were about the only things he could find in Tokyo without having to file for a request to view them. He didn't have access to school records, and the criminal charges against him didn't identify the plaintiff. 

The detective wondered if it was even a real case to begin with. There were too many holes surrounding it, too many details redacted for it to not seem suspicious. 

"Is that so? You seem rather charming and kind, I'm sure people would gravitate towards you regardless of your background.”

“I'm flattered. But I think you’re confusing me with yourself,”

The detective couldn’t stop the bitter laugh that tumbled out of his mouth.

“People don’t like me, they like the _idea_ of me. The Detective Prince, as you yourself like calling me.” Goro shook his head and forced another jovial smile.

Akira stared hard at him, no smile, no reply.

  
  


Joker wasn’t the only suspect that Goro was investigating.

After he finished off his last cup of coffee for the day he left Leblanc and headed out to Shibuya, where one Ann Takamaki had agreed to meet up with him later that afternoon.

He stood underneath the scant cover of a music store along Central Street, avoiding the hellish heat of the sun as he waited for the blonde to arrive. It took a bit of time to actually get into contact with her; despite being something of a public figure, due to her work as a model, she was quite a private individual. Her contact information like her address or phone number weren’t available to people outside of the industry or her social circle, and even when he managed to get into contact her schedule got in the way of their meetings and put it off for three entire days.

Goro didn’t really mind that she kept cancelling. He could somewhat sympathize with how erratic her schedule was and he didn’t hold it against her. That said, he had several _other_ things he felt free to hold against her - like the fact that she could possibly be working as a Phantom Thief on the side. 

“Akechi-kun!”

Goro put on a smile. “Takamaki-san, such a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”

“Just Ann is fine.” She replied cheerily. 

_Kinda looked like a foreigner_ , his landlady described. She was understating it; Takamki stood out so much with her long blonde hair and fair skin that even if Goro wasn’t actively looking for her, his eyes would naturally gravitate in her direction. Her red dress didn’t quite help, either. The color was so vibrant that it made her look like blood on snow.

“What do you say we get out of this heat before we get to talking? I know a nice cafe just a little further down the block…”

Goro agreed to follow her, but inwardly reminded himself to hold off on the coffee for the day.

“I’d like to thank you again for going through the effort of making sure I got my letters. If it had been anyone else, they would have just returned it to the post office.”

“Of course! I’ve had my share of returned post as well, and it’s just a very tedious process for everyone involved.” She took a generous forkful out of her slice of chocolate cake before continuing. “It’s much easier to do the legwork to deliver it personally. There was an address anyway, might as well right?”

“Not many people would make that effort,”

“They should, though. Don’t you think?” She chimed happily.

Goro declined a response and speared his fork into his own slice of cake. He wasn’t really in the mood for something sweet, but since Ann had insisted, he thought he might try it out. (It was good. Not _the best_ , like she claimed, but far better than several other variations he’s had thus far.)

"By the way, how is Suzui-san doing in the hospital?" He asked after a brief pause. 

Ann's expression faltered for just a moment, but it rearranged itself back into a worried smile not long after. 

"I guess I shouldn't be _too_ surprised that you know about Shiho. You are a detective, after all." 

"If you don't want to talk about it, I understand."

Ann shook her head. "Shiho is doing her best to get through physical therapy. It's not a very pleasant experience, but she's pushing through it, and I'm trying to support her as best asI can."

"I'm sure she appreciates your presence," 

"I hope so…" She put down her fork and took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm just… worried that I'm not being there enough for her."

Goro withdrew his hands from on top of the table and rested them securely in his lap. Pins and needles had begun biting into the tips of his fingers, as if a swarm of agitated fire ants had suddenly materialised on his skin from thin air. 

Maybe meeting Ann was a mistake. He didn’t need anything from her anymore; he had all the information on her and her relationship with the Akira, and he already knew from pictures that she was the woman his landlady had mentioned about two weeks ago… 

"Anyway, Akechi-kun, what about you?" 

Goro arched an eyebrow. "Me?" 

"Yes, how are _you_ doing?" 

Goro didn't really know how to respond to that. He was always the one asking that question, not the other way around. He went quiet for a short while, drawing lines in the icing of the cake with the prongs of his fork as he tried to come up with a plausible answer.

“I’m doing fine.” The detective replied tentatively. “A little tired, maybe. Things have been busy at the station since… well, since _‘Medjed’_ got caught.”

“Oh the Masamune case, isn’t that right?”

Goro nodded. “Apart from that, I also have several other cases I need to resolve as soon as possible.”

“Sounds rough,”

“It is a little bit. But it’s always been this way since I started working so it’s no big deal.”

Ann tilted her head to one side, observing him carefully as she finished off the last bite of her cake. Goro managed not to look away. So far Akira and all of his acquaintances - Makoto included - had very intense gazes, the kind that you could physically feel on your skin when it was trained on you. It was more than a little bothersome, but somehow when Ann looked at him it didn't feel like he was a frog on a dissection table, ready to be taken apart for answers to a stupid test. She looked at him like he was a peculiar passage in a book she was reading, and all she wanted was to understand the words.

"You're much more different than I thought you'd be, Akechi-kun." She remarked after some time.

It didn't sound at all condescending. It didn't sound disgusted. It just sounded curious. 

"How do you mean?" Goro asked, trepidation sprouting in the spaces between his words. 

Ann smiled. "You're much more, well, _real_ than I thought you'd be, you know?" Then she wrinkled her nose and put down her fork. "Ugh, that doesn't sound right, uh…" 

Goro finished off his own slice of cake and took a sip from his forgotten cup of tea. 

She didn't _sound_ like she was messing around with him… that was another thing about Akira and his friends: they seemed too damn earnest to lie about their sentiments. Goro turned her words over in his head and listened to the way she said them, but no matter how hard he tried, his trained ears couldn't pick up a single hint of deception in her words. 

Ann snapped her fingers delightedly. "Ah! You're much more _pleasant_ in person, you know?" She grinned at him. "You look so stiff in pictures, and on the radio you just sound harsh and stressed out. But talking with you like this, over tea and cake, you sound much more relaxed, and pleasant to be with!"

"I'm flattered that you think so," Goro managed a smile over the rim of his cup. 

Like he hasn't heard _that_ one before. 

  
  


It was early in the evening by the time Goro parted ways with Ann. They had spent a great deal of time talking about trivial things - more time than he thought he could tolerate in her presence, but as it turns out Ann was actually quite agreeable. Even when she was talking to him about that one girl from her modelling agency who _seemed_ to hate her for nothing (though it was clear to Goro that she perceived the blonde as a threat), Ann talked in quite a laid-back way, as if she was just telling a fun little story.

Goro didn’t let slip much - it was mostly Ann who talked, but he got rather invested with what she had to say. She was a very enthralling storyteller.

“May I know who is visiting, sir?”

Goro flashed his badge. “Detective Goro Akechi. I’m here on behalf of Shido-san.”

“Of course. Right this way.”

As entertaining as her company was, however, they had to part ways at some point. Ann suggested they go to the Velvet Room - which was extremely tempting for more reasons than none, but it was _not_ the objective for the night. He already spent his morning keeping an eye on Akira. There were other things that needed to be taken care of.

Goro minded how loud his footsteps were as the sound bounced around the Okumura Mansion’s foyer. The sharp _clack-clack-clack_ ing of the soles of his shoes was harsh and lonely, and it reminded him of walking down school hallways after eight pm, being led down hospital corridors at three in the morning… It was an empty sound in an empty place. And it made Goro feel almost physically ill, because it made him think about how an empty mansion sounded a whole lot like the quiet halls of an overcrowded institution for children in the dead hours of the morning.

_Focus._

If he had known how desolate a direct visit would be, he would have waited until the next morning to conduct his preliminary investigation. But, alas. It was an _urgent_ issue.

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

Goro nodded politely as the man sitting on one of the couches in the living room looked up from the book he was reading.

“Good evening, Okumura-san. I’m sorry to intrude so late in the evening,” 

“Nonsense, I was told you’d be coming today.” The man replied dismissively. “I take it your _other_ work has been taking up your time.”

“That’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

Okumura gestured to the seat across from him and waved away the helper. The detective took his seat, uncomfortably stiff against the plush velvet cushions. Everything in sight was so expensive. He didn’t want to touch anything in case he got billed for damages. 

“So, what is Shido concerned about now?”

“I doubt you haven’t heard, but recently some of Shido-san’s associates have been in legal trouble as of late,” Goro began, lacing his gloved fingers and resting them in his lap. “You’re quite a valuable ally to him at the moment, especially since Madarame and Kaneshiro have gone to jail.”

Okumura allowed himself a self-satisfactory smile. “Ah, this is about that whole _Phantom Thieves_ business, is that right?”

“Yes.”

Goro wondered how he caught wind of that. (Shido was probably circulating the news among his cronies. Either that, or there were _two_ spies at the station… Goro didn’t know which was the more disconcerting option.)

“Well, I assure you I have very tight security. I think it’s unlikely that someone will be able to get into my house undetected.”

Goro stayed his tongue. _I’m sure the others all thought that as well_ , he wanted to inform the man. But right now he didn’t need an enemy.

“Yes, but while I trust the competence of your staff, Shido-san sent me to check on the area regardless. So if I may?”

Okumura frowned reluctantly. “I would love to allow you to make a cursory sweep of the estate, however it’s getting late. I doubt you’d accomplish many things at this time of night.”

“Of course. Would tomorrow morning be a better time?”

“If it works with your schedule, then by all means.”

Goro crossed his legs and smiled. “Oh, before I leave, might I ask -”

“Father, I - oh, pardon the intrusion.”

_Ah, speak of the devil._

Though, devil wasn’t really something that you’d call such a lovely young woman. Haru Okumura took a step back and bowed apologetically when she noticed Goro, her cheeks flushed a terrible pink shade of mortification.

“I wasn’t informed you had guests over,” she muttered.

“It’s all right, it’s not anything serious.” Okumura reassured her. “Haru, this is Goro Akechi, a detective from the TMPD.”

“Nice to meet you, Detective.” Haru replied with a forced smile.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance as well.” Goro replied before standing up. “I won’t take your time any longer, Okumura-san. I’ll return tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

Goro walked slowly past Haru. She wasn’t really paying attention to him - she _was_ paying special attention to the floor, however, and her hands gripped each other like she wanted to crush all of her fingers but didn’t know which hand to start with. Goro played it off like he hadn’t noticed - most people typically wouldn't notice, as they would usually be hurrying out at that point after it was agreed that the conversation would resume the next day. It was already awkward enough, barging into someone’s home past working hours; having to endure a stale father-daughter interaction would have been the final sign to get the hell out.

“What is it you wish to talk about?”

The detective wasn’t in a hurry, though. He walked slowly away from the living room, keeping his ears trained on the conversation. No helper had come to see him out so he was free to do as he wished. Thankfully Okumura had a somewhat loud voice.

“... Ah yes, your date with Sugimura. How was it?”

Goro was too far away by that point to hear Haru clearly, but he could hear her meek whisper of _“um, about that…”_ as he finally got too far out of earshot to make anything out.

_Maybe an overdose…?_

Goro found himself pacing the tragically short distance from his front door to his living room window later that evening when he arrived home. Since he read through the assignment letter on Okumura several days ago he’s been agonizing over the best method to use when dealing with the man. He _could_ still use the easiest, cleanest method - which is giving him tainted food to eat and trying to plant evidence that he died from vices - but he’s already done it twice that month, and doing something several times in a row made it likely for people to notice patterns. He didn’t want to incriminate himself when there were other options to be had.

He stopped pacing to look over the profile he had compiled on Okumura. According to the records he had gathered, the man was already on a pharmacy of prescription medicine, owing to his apparently declining health (it seemed that age was not doing him any favors). He could probably mess around with some of his pills and…

_No._

Goro leafed through the rest of his file on Okumura in search for another idea. Apart from medical history, he also had newspaper clippings and case files that had been dismissed over the course of the last two years. Okumura was one of the people that Masamune has been stealing information from, and he fed a good few “rumors” to some tabloids about the apparent exploitation running rampant within the company. 

Reports on underpaid workers and the convenient disappearances of company rivals weren’t really news to Goro - not really, not when he had a hand in some of the disappearances - but he thought he would keep the clippings in his private case file anyway, in case he needed them. He read through several of them as he tried coming up with a scheme. It’s not as if Shido gave him any explicit instructions apart from “ _dispose of him_ ” (because the man was useless at using his head), but at the same time Goro had a mountain of limitations that were keeping him back. Obviously Goro couldn’t just walk in and shoot him with a gun even if he wanted to…

_Well, maybe if..._

Goro hissed in frustration and pulled away from the files.

“You sound troubled, Detective. May I offer any assistance?”

Goro wasn’t even surprised anymore. He was too tired to be. 

“Unless you plan on turning yourself in, I don’t believe you’ll be of any help.” The detective turned on his heels, giving the thief a hard look as he closed the window behind him. 

Joker pulled down his hood, that dumb smirk of his on full display. He still had his domino mask on, but apart from that he didn’t make any effort to hide the telltale signs of his identity. That unruly raven hair was Akira’s, alright.

Goro made a mental note to reinforce his window sometime in the near future. He couldn’t really do anything about the fire escape right outside of it (unless he wanted to get in trouble) but he could stand to install a few more latches. He didn’t want Joker of all people to be lurking around inside his apartment while all of his case files were in plain view and easy to steal.

“Why are you here and what do you want.” Goro demanded. It was more of a statement than a question, with how drily he said it.

Akira - _Joker? -_ Joker arched an eyebrow at him. “What’s the matter, not going to try and shoot me today?”

“I have neighbors.” Goro refuted. “One of them is a _child_. I doubt it would sit well with your conscience if I accidentally shot a toddler through the wall because you kept dancing around my apartment.” 

It wouldn’t sit well much with Goro either if he accidentally killed a child. But Joker didn’t need to know that.

Joker stiffened somewhat. He glanced off to one side, as if he could see through the plaster and spot the child in question. Then silence.

Goro could name several things that he would rather be doing on a Friday night. None of them really involved having a tense conversation with one of his current targets, but well. Plans changed. He gave the thief a good onceover, taking note of the fact that he didn’t have a dagger hanging from his belt this time - or at least he wasn’t keeping it in plain sight. Goro didn’t really have his gun anywhere on his person even if he _did_ want to shoot Joker; he wasn’t so dedicated to his job that he’d carry his revolver around for absolutely no reason.

“Talk.” Goro commanded. “I may not be able to shoot you, but there are plenty other blunt objects here that I can throw at you. I could even yell for help. So tell me why you’re here or get the hell out.”

Not like he needed a verbal confirmation anyway… Joker was likely there to seize the evidence. He drifted closer to the table reflexively. In the off-chance that the thief lunged for the files, Goro could at least intercept and fend him off first. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“... I wanted to talk to you about Okumura,”

Goro’s eye twitched. “What about him?”

Joker placed his hands in his pocket and leaned back against the window. “I read your letter. I know what you’re planning to do.”

Goro sighed heavily. He already knew _that_ ; Akira had clearly placed the assignment letter in a new, untampered envelope after he opened it up. Also, none of his other assignment letters had an incriminating address written on it, much less a _handwritten_ address that could be compared to handwriting samples. Clearly the thieves were less savvy than he gave them credit for.

“That’s surprising, considering _I_ have no idea what I’m going to do yet.”

“You’re planning to kill him,”

“Your words, not mine.” Goro snapped. “And if you’re planning to convince me _not_ to deal with Okumura, you’re delusional. I have to.”

“Why?”

Goro crossed his arms. “He’s a criminal.”

Joker watched him curiously for a moment. Then, “Why would you _have_ to kill him, if that's the case? Why not just send him to jail?”

“I won’t -”

_I won’t kill him_ , he wanted to say. But the words wouldn’t leave his throat. Joker arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, whatever brief lightheartedness now completely gone from him. His gaze was piercing, his expression steadfast in its stoicness. Goro clamped his mouth closed and dug his fingers into his hands, trying to find another set of words that wouldn’t get stuck in his throat.

“... I don’t set out to _kill_ criminals.”

“Really? That’s what it looks like to me.” Akira tilted his head to one side. “Last Sunday... that was you, wasn’t it? Aiko Miura, who died in the hospital.”

Goro kept his gaze level. “Where is your proof?”

“The -”

“ _Where_.”

Goro burned every letter after he read them. He burned them and he burned the ashes and he cleaned everything up in his own little apartment where there was no one to witness him doing so. He got rid of all the evidence methodically and precisely, and he knew that he did. Even if the thieves had intercepted his letters, the only way they would have had their own copy was if they took photographs…

“Listen,” Joker spoke after several tense seconds of nothing, “the others and I, we’ve gotten our own request to deal with Okumura. We’ve already gathered most of the intel we need… All that’s left is to start finding evidence for it.”

“I wouldn’t call it finding evidence, so much as it is _stealing_.”

“Stealing is such a strong word, Detective. I prefer _borrowing for photo-documentation_.” Joker shrugged. “We don’t really steal anything for too long. You saw it yourself, didn’t you?”

Goro grit his teeth.

Yes, he did.

The morning after Masamune’s arrest he had returned to the house in Ginza and did a thorough sweep of the premises, going over the same places that he had examined the day before. The walls of the living room, the writing desk in the study, the night stand in the bedroom… All in the hopes that there was a chance that it was all just coincidence, that Masamune just happened to turn himself in that night and Joker just happened to have predictive abilities. All in the hopes that at least _one_ of the thief’s statements was false and everything they had taken was still missing. But no. Everything was back in its place. Every single thing down to the latch that had been removed from the kitchen window.

Goro even found one of those stupid business cards resting on the bed, as if it was waiting for him to find it.

All the possible evidence of the Phantom Thieves’ activity had been erased in a single night. Two weeks of continuous theft undone by a particularly observant eye. There was no proof, no conclusive evidence; there was the business card and the photographs, but the card could easily be dismissed as a prank and the photographs didn’t have any power to them out of context. Every piece of evidence he had sitting in his apartment dining table could be brushed off as circumstantial and _for once_ , it was working completely against his favor.

“We give them back, so you coppers can deal with the red tape before a court trial, you know.” Joker pulled the detective out of his stupor. “If we don’t give back the evidence, there won’t be a trial. If they can’t find anything to prove the guilty claim, they can’t be thrown in jail. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

Goro turned on his heels and braced himself against the table; his temper was starting to wear thin. 

Of _course_ he knew all that. He’s been studying that shit for six years, and he’s been practicing it for a year and a half. He _knew_ how trials worked. He knew how convictions worked. He knew how _everything_ worked within the damn legal system and he took pains to assure that whenever he dealt with a case _he caused_ , he wouldn’t trip up and get caught.

Joker’s oversimplification of the matter grated on him more than he cared to admit - and the raven probably wasn't even _trying_ to rile him up this time. He just sounded so goddamn _patronising._

“The court can rule confessions like this under duress, you know.”

“Doesn’t matter to me. The evidence is there. You _know_ they would never have confessed on their own.”

Goro turned back to the thief, his levelness cracking under the pressure of Joker’s flippancy. “If you came here to try and seduce into working with you -”

“Trust me, you’d _know_ if I was trying to seduce you.”

Goro grabbed one of the many unwashed coffee mugs on his dining table and hurled it at Joker. 

The thief held up his arms over his face, no time to duck or dodge and get away. The ceramic shattered with a muted _crash_ , several large shards clinging to the fabric of his coat sleeves as the rest fell to the floor with a chorus of shrill tinkling shrieks, not unlike the bells over Leblanc’s front door. Joker cursed under his breath as he brushed out the shards, parts of his gloves going dark from sopping up days-old coffee that had pooled in the waterproof folds of his sleeves.

“What a waste of a perfectly good mug,” he sighed.

“I don’t _plan_ on collaborating with you.” Goro seethed. “Get out of my home.”

Joker reached up and pulled down his mask. 

The reappearance of Akira was a little like a slap in the face; Goro stopped functioning for a moment, not used to seeing such a soft and earnest expression on him when he was wearing that black hooded cloak that the detective had come to mentally associate with Joker.

“I’d rather not pick a fight with you, Akechi.” He said.

“Then stand down and let me do my job.” Goro replied, a chill running down the full length of his spine. 

Akira swallowed hard. “Sorry but I’m not going to let you kill anyone either.”

Goro prided himself in his ability as a walking lie detector. He could _feel_ when people were lying through their teeth, whenever someone was fumbling their way to walk around a truth that was obviously in plain view.

Akira exuded none of the signs. He kept his gaze level, his voice stern and unyielding. He stared straight at Goro and the honesty raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He hasn't heard someone tell the truth in a long time - and it felt strange, to hear it in a situation like this one. It almost didn't belong there. 

The detective looked away. He couldn't hold Akira's gaze any longer.

“Then I’m afraid a fight will be inevitable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann and Goro being close friends is my favorite relationship next to Shuake and I will be damned if I don't establish it sooner HAHAHA (that's maybe why I kept referencing Ann so heavily these past few chapters oops).
> 
> It was so difficult looking for a way to go through the Okumura arc in an era with no social media, but since Mementos isn’t there, the goal of gaining popularity doesn’t really play into the entire story anyway, so I redacted it completely nyehe. 
> 
> That was basically the only trouble I had with this entire chapter which is why it took another two weeks, but past this point I HAVE planned out the next three chapters. I think I won't have as much trouble this time, since I already have chapter summaries. Hopefully school won't get in the way? (Hope I don't jinx myself AHAHAH)
> 
> Also, [here](https://www.pinterest.ph/pin/286682332516799872/)’s inspo for Ann’s dress (it’s really cute) ^^
> 
> Okay bye lovelies, hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening wherever you are ♥♥


	8. Turbulence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a brief bit, but content warning for mentions of suicide near the middle just in case.

The end of September brought with it a severe cold spell, but no rain.

Goro leaned out his bedroom window and took in a deep breath of autumn air. The trees right outside the apartment were starting to turn yellow, and the detective took a bit of time to appreciate the splash of color in the weak light of daybreak. 

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Goro ducked back into the room and stared at Joker’s reflection in the window glass.

“Autumn is a beautiful season to observe from one’s windowsill.” He replied simply before turning around. “You know you won’t change my mind.”

Akira pulled down his mask and tugged on the cuffs of his gloves. A nervous habit that Goro had come to notice over the three weeks that the thief had spent coming and going as he pleased within the apartment. That was about the only gesture that Joker consistently did regardless of what his mood was - but Goro mostly saw it when he was fidgety and nervous, or when he was fidgety and smug.

“Worth a try, at least.” The raven mumbled.

Goro walked past him and into the kitchen for a terrible cup of lukewarm coffee.

Despite his better judgment, the detective had grown accustomed to Joker’s almost daily act of breaking and entering (even though there were now four other latches installed on the window since the thief’s initial _visit_ ). Getting used to it was about the only thing Goro could do in the situation; it was either that or risk getting psychologically manipulated into outing himself as conspiring with the Mob.

“Might I implore you to do something else, then?” Joker posited hopefully.

Goro plugged the coffee maker into the wall. “What might that something be?”

“Get a better cup of coffee.”

“It’s _five am_ , I don’t think there are any places open at this hour.”

“There’s always Leblanc.”

Goro stopped bustling about in front of the kitchen counter. 

He glanced over his shoulder. Joker had made himself at home and was sitting on one of the chairs in front of the dining table, eyeing the bare surface warily like he could still still see the shadows of paper trail on the wood (every single piece of evidence was now hidden underneath a set of fake floor panels underneath his bed). When he noticed Goro staring he looked up and mirrored the detective’s curious gaze.

“What? I live there. I can just open the door for you.”

Goro turned back to his ritual of morning suffering. 

As much as he wanted to have some of Leblanc's coffee again - Akira's invitation notwithstanding - he couldn't spare the luxury. Not really. He had yet to take care of Okumura, and if one of Shido’s cronies spotted him idling by while that fact remained he was going to be in serious hot water.

“Not interested?”

“Don’t you have classes?” Goro snapped in irritation.

Akira tilted his head to one side. “At this time of day? No, I don’t think so.”

“That’s -”

“I don’t have to show up for my first class today.” 

Goro had half a mind to ask why, but he wasn’t too concerned about the intricacies of Akira’s life; he didn’t have any use for such knowledge, all he needed to know was what he was going to do with all of that time.

“What are you planning to do?” He asked, already knowing what response he was going to get.

“That depends on what _you’re_ planning.” 

“Don’t you have better things than to shadow me?”

“Not when you’re planning murder.” Akira smirked. “Also my next class is at noon, so sorry but you’re stuck with me.”

_For the last time, it won’t have to be a murder._

Goro ignored him for the rest of the morning. 

Akira didn’t seem to mind being ignored. He was ignored quite often in the apartment whenever he intruded, so Goro didn’t expect anything less. The thief was quick to adapt. The moment it was clear that the silence was there to stay, Akira leaned back in his seat and began looking around the detective’s lackluster apartment - something he had taken to doing when he was left to his own devices. His sharp eyes darted every which way as if he was looking through the jumble of letters in a word search, trying to find _something_ in the gaps between the floorboards and the fraying ends of the plain white curtains hanging over the window. He looked around as if he hadn’t already seen the same bare ceilings and walls about a hundred times already by that point. 

Goro wasn’t much bothered by his wandering gaze. He had nothing displayed that could be used against him, after all. But the silence… it was concerning.

Despite that, he went about his morning routine as per usual like there wasn’t an intruder making himself at home in his kitchen. It seemed to work in driving the thief away; by the time he had finished getting dressed for work, Akira was gone. The only trace he left in the apartment was a small note sitting beside Goro’s empty cup of coffee that read: 

_Your brew is cheap, that's why your coffee tastes terrible._

Goro frowned. He checked the remaining coffee in the pot - just to make sure - and realized that it had been reduced by at least one cup’s worth. Because _of course_ Joker - Akira, whatever his name was, would be brazen enough to do that. Goro honestly didn’t know what he was expecting but it surely didn’t involve being insulted to his face about his choice of coffee (although it was admittedly quite _bad_ even by his standards). He folded up the note and tucked it into his coat pocket.

“Detective, good morning.”

It felt a little bit strange to see Makoto first before anyone else in the morning; Goro didn’t usually see her until after work, when she was on her way out, or at the scene of the crime if there was a particularly gruelling case that needed to be dealt with. She wasn’t usually waiting by the front desk for him when he arrived. She was usually holed up in her office.

Not that Goro was actually surprised. Just like her raven-haired acquaintance, Makoto had taken to some strange habits in an effort to keep a close eye on him; she had started offering him coffee in the afternoon just so she had an excuse to knock on his office and offering to walk home with him on the nights when he actually left the office on time, among other things. It definitely felt weirder and weirder the longer it went on, but after the third or fourth time Goro couldn’t really be surprised anymore. All he really was at this point was _annoyed_ \- but he couldn’t really air that grievance out for more reasons than none.

“Chief.” Goro nodded politely. “What’s the matter?”

“I need to talk to you about something. Would you come see me in my office?”

“All right.”

“Five minutes,” she directed before leaving in a rush.

For a second, there was silence.

Then,

“What’d you do to tick her off, Detective?” The officer working the front desk snorted.

“I think you and I both know that I did nothing to aggravate her.” Goro turned to him with a shake of his head. “How long has she been waiting for me?”

“About ten minutes. She got a call before that so she came out here to attend to it, then she stayed. Seemed like an important call. Maybe she wants to talk to you about it.”

Goro considered what Makoto could possibly want from him as he stopped by his office to leave his things. Would she be actually be stupid enough to talk about the Phantom Thieves in broad daylight? He doubted it. She seemed more reasonable than Joker. She was likely going to talk to him about one of the ongoing cases that was still under his care, like the murder from four weeks ago or the current ongoing case of Okumura.

“I’m here, Chief. What do you need?”

Makoto was standing by her office window when he arrived. She was chewing nervously on the knuckle of her left index finger, eyes glued to the street outside like she had seen something she wasn’t supposed to. She gestured for him to lock the door before he entered the office - which immediately set Goro on edge. Makoto had always made a point to keep her door unlocked; she said that it was in case of emergencies, but really Goro knew that it was a leftover habit from her stint as the student council president back in university. She liked letting people know that she was available at all times for a good talk if anyone needed it.

He steeled himself, but forced his body to relax. If only to keep up appearances.

“I didn’t want to talk about this in the office, but…” She turned back to the table, her face still twisted in that conflicted expression. She reached into the pocket of her coat and put a letter on the table. The flap had already been torn open, the corner of the letter jutting out of it after having been put back incorrectly. “Ryu… One of our informants intercepted this letter yesterday, and -”

 _Ryuji_ , she was about to say. 

Goro was honestly a little sore that it was _Sakamoto_ who managed to intercept a letter; he always thought it was solely Ann doing the intercepting, since at least she had the excuse of distracting the couriers with her looks (they weren’t very self aware, even during the best of times). But anyway, that’s besides the point.

“I don’t suppose you _read_ what it said?” Goro arched an eyebrow. 

She shook her head. “ _I_ didn’t. But Joker did.”

The detective’s body seized up. He grabbed the letter and read through it quickly, taking note of the gray marks where a pencil had carelessly swiped across the page, the half-ring stain around the lower left corner where a cup of coffee had been placed. There were gouges in the margins of the letter where notes had been written and erased, a few eraser shavings still pressed and clinging to the page and concealing several letters. Goro read through the letter quickly, concerned by the fact that Akira had been too harried to conceal his little invasion of privacy.

It was Shido, writing directly to him - albeit concealed by the impersonal script of a typewriter, but he recognized the speech. It was different from his usual assignment letters, more eloquently-worded and a little more descriptive. He didn’t know if Akira noticed the slight difference but _he_ sure did. The entire thing was about a paragraph long, as if it was the short introduction of an essay. It was so damn long and unnecessarily wordy (the simplicity of his other assignments was about the only thing he appreciated from his “co-workers”), and on any other day Goro would have taken the time to read it.

But today he didn’t have the luxury, so he skipped right down to the final line:

_Your new assignment is to eliminate Okumura before elections._

“Akechi,” Makoto called out. Her voice sounded a little distant and far away. “I know what it says. I didn’t read it, but he told me what it said.”

Goro managed to clear his throat before his voice could completely die out. “And what has _he_ told you to do about it? I don’t suppose you’re going to arrest me for this?”

“I think you and I both know I can’t.” Makoto crossed her arms. “No name, no address. That could be anyone’s letter. It could even be mine.”

“Can’t you make up something about _finding_ it in my office? You know they’d take your word for it. They always do.”

Her cheeks burned bright red. “I’d never stoop that low,”

“You’ve come close. Several times.”

That was a low blow even for Goro - but that didn’t make the fact any less true. He’s seen both Niijima sisters come dangerously close to breaking the law, bending it so far he could see the seams straining to keep from tearing apart at the liberties they were taking. Makoto has skirted the line with blackmail and leading questions several times already even before they were on the force - and while that fact didn’t diminish his respect for her as his superior and as Sae’s sister, it sure did take a toll on his trust in her. There was very little of that already to begin with; he hardly trusted _anyone_ , actually. Not if he could help it.

“... Look, I don’t know who you’re working for, if it’s the Mob or someone else or what,” Makoto spoke after several tense seconds, “but I can assure you that even if I _knew_ what you’re planning to do, I can’t pin the murder on you.”

“It -”

 _It doesn’t have to be murder_.

That’s what he’s been telling Akira all this time, wasn’t it? It wasn’t _always_ murder. Sometimes it was just induced psychosis. Sometimes it was just a chemical reaction, just an accident, just something that the tabloids would talk about for a few weeks to force someone to withdraw from their position. Just a staged scandal that benefited somebody who didn’t have enough time to deal with things themselves. 

It wasn’t always murder. It didn’t have to be murder.

Those were all lies now - and even though Goro has told countless lies before, this particular one left an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth.

Makoto didn’t wait for him to take back his words. “I can’t pin the murder, but Joker might be able to. He’s been gathering evidence on you, and -”

“If you’re attempting to blackmail me -” _It won’t work._

“Akechi, I want to help you.” Makoto interjected, placing her hands on the table. “If you go through with it, there _will_ be evidence and I won’t be able to protect you from that.”

She let the fact hang in the air for a moment.

And for that one moment, Goro could feel uncertainty gripping him like the chill that lingered after a particularly cold gust of wind. It wasn’t even a threat - if it was, he wouldn’t be afraid of it. But it was the truth and nothing else, and he won’t be able to lie to anyone to get around it.

“Listen to me.” Makoto said. Her voice was tight, but it wasn’t forced. If anything, it even sounded a bit distressed. “If you don’t do it, we can protect you.”

Goro smirked. “From _what_? You don’t even know who I work for.”

It was a miracle that they didn’t have that information at their disposal. The detective was halfway sure that Akira already had every gritty detail about his _second job_ \- because he was that thorough, and he was that capable of procuring information. They might have just been playing dumb. It definitely wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

Even then, even if they knew who was employing him, he had no confidence in their abilities. He’s seen perfectly capable and strong people get taken out by Shido. He’s seen people disappear and die regardless of how secure, how hidden from him they seemed to be. Goro has handled their cases; he’s had to deal with the death, time and again, and he’s had to brush disappearances under the rug when no one was paying attention. He knew how Shido’s network operated - and he knew that the moment he stepped out of bounds, he was going to experience firsthand how efficient at disposing that network really was.

“Ak -”

“Thank you for your _concern_ , but I have work to attend to.” Goro turned around before she could get another word in. Whatever she was trying to say, he didn’t need to hear it.

“You don’t have to go through with it.”

_You don’t know what you’re talking about._

Goro left her office without replying.

It was either death or prison, and that’s how it’s always been.

It’s not like he’s never thought about it; he’s always kept that thought close whenever he went out on a job, just in case he got too complacent. If he was too careless - if he forgot to check for witnesses, if he got noticed while planting poison or tampering with car breaks, he would get arrested and sent to jail. If he failed to get the job done, he would be disposed of. He would be on the receiving end of a killing blow - one that would likely be ungraceful and _bloody_ , as evidenced by the individuals who were just unfortunate enough to be an assignment for another hit man.

He’s never _not_ thought about it. It was a constant in everything he did.

It shouldn’t have scared him as much as it did then.

He stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, dull and gray and bare as it has always ever been, listening to sounds in the dark. So far, his apartment was quiet save for the occasional whir of car engines as a vehicle drove past outside. Goro knew that Akira would visit. Akira, Joker - whoever he decided to come as. The detective knew that he would be around sooner or later. He knew the thief would want to talk.

 _We can protect you_ , Makoto promised.

He didn’t want to call bullshit - that would be rude, but that’s what he thought of the claim anyway. He didn’t believe anyone could do that. Protect him? No one could do that. Not while Shido was around.

_It won’t be enough._

Even without hearing about it, he could almost guarantee that their plan wouldn’t work. Unless it involved sailing out of Japan altogether - which was highly unlikely - it would only be a matter of time until it ultimately fell apart like a sandcastle under the mercy of an oncoming wave. The only way to be safe from Shido was to either get him arrested or get him killed, and neither of those options seemed all that viable at that moment either.

_Whatever it is, it won’t work._

An unfamiliar sound roused him from his thoughts. Knuckles on wood, gently tapping as if whoever was on the other side of his front door was afraid of being heard. Goro could barely even hear it from over the ticking of the clock on his bedside table - and he even left his bedroom door open and everything, just so he could hear the telltale squeak of the window hinges in the living room as Joker entered his home from the fire exit. He waited a few seconds, in case he was just hallucinating. Then, again. Knocking.

He got up and went to see who it was.

“So you have manners after all,” Goro deadpanned as he opened the door.

Akira smiled back at him. It wasn’t his usual brand of snarky; if anything it was weary, and the gesture made the shadows under his eyes a little more noticeable than they would have been if he had just kept his expression neutral.

“Sorry, I’m off work today.” The raven replied.

Goro arched an eyebrow, but let his questions remain unspoken. He stepped back and opened the door wider to let Akira inside. He gave a cursory glance down both ends of their hall before he shut the door just in case the thief had been followed. Getting ambushed in close quarters would not bode well.

“So what brings you around at this hour?” 

“Well, I thought I’d pay back that generous cup of coffee you gave me this morning.” Akira set down the paper bag he was holding on the dining table. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” 

Goro rolled his eyes. “A house call, just for me? How sweet.” He replied drily.

Still, he stepped aside when Akira asked if he could use his coffeemaker. He stood by and watched closely, in case the thief slipped something in his drink (he didn’t; he was too _nice_ for that), but Goro didn’t stop him from going about the task. He leaned back against the dining table and crossed his arms, waiting and watching and trying to figure out how to broach the subject at hand.

Even though Akira would have him believe that things were fine, the looming issue of Okumura and his assignment from Shido dangled low over their heads like the rusting edge of a guillotine blade. The smiles and the jokes did nothing for the tension. Goro could see the stiffness in Akira’s arms as he worked, the way he anxiously fumbled with holding a tablespoon, the way he spilled a little bit of the coffee grounds on the counter as if he’s never made coffee before in his life. It was a little strange. For as short a time as the detective had known the thief, he’s never really seen Akira fumble with anything - much less with something he got paid for doing.

Well, there was a first time for everything.

“... Whatever you have to say,” Goro began after some time in silence had passed, “you know it won’t change my mind.”

_I’ve already said so this morning and I mean it._

Akira stilled. He leaned forward against the counter and drummed his fingers along the tile surface . “I know. You already said as much.”

“So why are you here?”

A pause. “... I came to see you, I guess.”

“I hope you don’t actually think we’re _friends_.” Goro furrowed his brows and dug his gloved fingers into the sleeve of his button-up shirt. 

The laugh that escaped Akira was surprisingly dark. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He turned around, a shadow passing over his face before he blinked it away and covered it up with a sheepish smile. “I mean, I didn’t really think you would be _easy_. A couple of meetings over coffee and champagne is hardly anything to bond over.”

“Enough of this.”

Akira straightened up, all the playfulness gone from his face.

“How much do you know.” Goro demanded. 

It was something he’s been meaning to ask, but never really had the opportunity to. Their ability to gather enough intel to successfully convict four people posed the question of how far exactly they could have gotten in their background check on him. Compared to their other targets who have been in the business of deception for ten, maybe twenty years or so and had a semblance of a trail to investigate, Goro didn’t really have any incriminating evidence on him. 

Technically, Goro Akechi as he was now only began formally existing in the records during his second year of high school, when he began gathering accolades and working as a “detective” of sorts (or a watered-down version of one) with the police. Before that, there was no Goro Akechi anywhere except maybe for his birth certificate and old school records. Unless they actually went around digging _those_ unnecessary documents up or cornering the few mobsters on the streets who knew him only by name, they weren’t likely to get anything beyond what they already knew.

But Goro did _not_ want to underestimate Akira and his team ever again. He’s done it once before and he refused to do it again.

“... About you?” Akira asked tentatively.

“About _everything_.”

“That’s a bit too broad,” he turned back around and took two mugs from the dish drain, setting them down in front of him. He grabbed the coffee pot and began pouring, his hands still a little unsteady from what Goro could see. “Let’s start with you. I don’t know much about you, apart from what you’ve done. I don’t _need_ to know much else about you, apart from where you started.”

_Where it began._

His voice was level and calm, not dark, not unbearably smug or flippant, not even casual and lighthearted. He sounded like the local unenthused radio announcer, rattling off daily headlines with no real intent other than the need to do his job correctly.

Goro shifted anxiously, trying to glimpse Akira’s expression as he prepared coffee. With the thief’s back to him he couldn’t really tell what he was thinking - and though reading him has always been difficult, even with his face clearly visible, it at least gave some hint as to what was going on in his head. His eyes, sharp and intimidating as they looked, weren’t all that great at hiding his feelings. Perhaps that’s why he wore glasses when he wasn’t parading around as Joker; the lenses, however fake they were, stood as a small barrier between the world and whatever part of his soul was unknowingly showing through his eyes.

“And?”

Akira turned to him, both cups in his hands. “And, what?”

“What do you know about where it began?”

Goro’s ears had started ringing, at some point, and when the raven stepped towards him and held out the steaming cup of coffee they reached a crescendo. Still, he took it. He took it and held it close because it was the only thing grounding him in that moment of uncertainty.

“Wakaba Isshiki.” The raven held his gaze for only a moment before looking away. “She was the first _assignment_ , wasn’t she?”

Goro took a sip from his coffee and pretended that it didn’t burn off the first layer of taste buds on his tongue. “Yes.”

Akira’s hold on his mug tightened. “You were eighteen,”

“Correct.”

“She was with her daughter, and her daughter was sixteen.”

Goro focused on the wall behind Akira, just so he had the illusion of being able to look the thief in the eye after just having one of his terminal nightmares dredged back up again by a mere passing mention. 

_Run-over on a busy street, by a car with tampered breaks. Right in front of her daughter._

“You’re pretty thorough in your research.” Goro commended. 

_I didn't think she'd be there, but the deadline was looming._

“Her daughter is my friend.” Akira replied quietly. “That’s the only reason I know. You’re quite good at covering your tracks.”

Actually, the detective already knew as much. He didn’t recognize her at first - the orange hair she had and the pair of glasses she wore kind of threw him in for a loop, since she never had dyed hair or glasses when he first saw her, but the resemblance was uncanny up close. He would have been a fool not to realize that Akira’s orange-haired companion was actually Futaba Isshiki.

“I’m impressed.” He replied drily. “You’ve got quite a network.”

“Akechi -”

“What about everything else?”

Akira’s composure finally cracked, giving way to irritation.

“That’s irrelevant,” the raven replied sharply.

 _It’s not_ , Goro wanted to argue. _It’s not irrelevant when it has everything to do with_ this _._

But Akira was still talking.

“It’s not about what you’ve been doing or what you did. _I don’t care._ Not about that. ” 

_Liar._

He did care. He did care about what Goro did because if he didn’t he wouldn’t have gathered so much evidence, wouldn’t have bothered to look into his extensive history, wouldn’t have bothered to do anything about the fact that Goro was in league with the Mob. If Akira didn’t care, he wouldn’t have gone through the effort.

“... What did you come here to do, Akira?” Goro demanded, his voice strained.

“Tell me what I can do to get you to _stop_.” The raven replied, both hands gripping his mug like he wanted to shatter it. 

“Nothing.” Goro replied hoarsely. “You’ll have to kill me if you want to stop me.”

He knew Akira would never do that.

Even cold, Akira’s brew tasted wonderful.

Goro would never tell him that - it would just go to his head and make him even more conceited than he already was - but he finished every single drop that Akira poured him, and every single drop still left inside of the coffee pot. It would have been a waste to let it spoil, like he often did whenever he made too much coffee.

He placed the ceramics in the sink and took a deep breath.

_Tonight._

He glanced carefully over his shoulder, at the sleeping figure at his dining table. Akira had fallen asleep somewhere around midnight, before Goro even had a chance to slip him any sleeping pills. They had been talking for most of the night, having a healthy discussion about Philosophy (and it’s wide array of annoying ideologies) before he excused himself to go change out of his uniform; when he got back, Akira was already asleep. 

Goro decided not to wake him up. 

The raven looked like he needed the rest. When he was passed out on the table like that, the raven looked like your quintessential college student; tired as all hell, a bit harassed (their earlier argument hadn’t exactly been _civil_ ), and about five steps away from dying. Goro walked over and pushed his bangs away from his face. It wasn’t obvious behind the glasses that he was tired. But he was. He was as good a liar with his exhaustion as Goro was with everything else.

Akira didn’t wake up when the detective’s cold fingers brushed over his forehead. He didn’t even stir, didn’t even shift.

He probably could have done something about Akira right then. Goro could have shot him, clean through the back of the head, and he could have made the excuse that he was asleep when the thief decided to steal his gun and commit suicide in his apartment. It would have been tricky to get away with, but if he employed the correct type of theatrics he probably would be able to get away with it.

Goro shook his head and took a step back.

It was too risky to deal with two targets on the same side - and besides, he hasn’t even dealt with the other thieves. He wasn’t sure if they would be a threat even without their leader around but Goro didn’t want to risk making a mistake.

_It has to be tonight._

Perhaps it was spite that compelled him to leave that night. Or perhaps it was irritation, maybe anger. Maybe. His encounters with Akira and Makoto didn’t really leave him with anything positive to work with. Whatever it was that compelled him to leave at three in the morning and to head up to Okumura Manor wasn’t anything pleasant, and it definitely wasn’t anything good-intentioned.

_A bullet. Maybe two._

It had been a long, _long_ trek uptown with no cars or trains to work with, but Goro had been through worse. He kept to dark, unlit streets and back alleys where no one could see him, moving quickly before the sun had a chance to come up and complicate things. He would have gone sooner if he didn’t have company - but well, that was all behind him now.

Goro closed the French doors leading out to the pool deck behind him as quietly as he could, keeping his ear strained in case someone walked around the corner and ran into him. The nearest areas of the house were the dining room and the kitchen - which, considering the time of night, was supposed to be empty.

“... said he would head here right away, what if he’s -”

“You act like he’s never been late in his life. You give him too much credit.”

Goro furrowed his brows and crept down the hall. Though the voices were hushed, their words tight and whispered in caution, he could still hear them all the way from where he was. He hugged the wall and listened in as he moved, trying to figure out who was talking. Apart from Okumura and his daughter, there were only the wait staff occupying the house - and those voices didn’t sound like they were talking about that day’s list of chores.

“Where did he even _go_ anyway?”

“Uh, he… I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but -”

“He told _you_ but he didn’t tell _me_?”

“Don’t be an ass, he didn’t tell anyone else - and you _know_ why he didn’t tell you where he went! He went to visit the crow’s nest.”

One woman, one man. 

Goro stopped at the archway leading into the dining room, his heart hammering in his ears as he listened further to their conversation. He hadn’t expected to be met with resistance so early along in the path… Well, actually, he had fully expected to encounter the other thieves outside of his apartment. He didn’t put it past Akira to have some of his teammates nearby for back-up in the off-chance that Goro decided to kill him in his own apartment - but to post then in Okumura’s own house? 

He was gutsier than Goro gave him credit for.

“... if he’s dead?”

“He’s not _dead_. Go… _Crow_ wouldn’t do that.”

Goro almost snorted. _Crow_. They had a silly little codename for him. A smart thing to consider, but it also sounded quite childish to some extent.

“How would you know?”

“I just… feel like he wouldn’t do that.”

Ann was sweet to give him the benefit of the doubt like that. Goro appreciated it even if the sentiment was a little unfounded.

He definitely would have killed Akira if the circumstances were just a little more ideal.

Goro returned the way he came, electing to go in the opposite direction rather than to risk getting spotted by the thieves.

_Second floor, last room down the right-hand corridor._

The foyer, unlike the rest of the house, was uncarpeted, so Goro had to take special precautions to make sure that his footsteps didn’t go alerting everyone in the house that he was in there. There was still some echo, a little bit of clicking as the soles of his shoes hit the polished marble, but he was somewhat consoled by the fact that there was no one in sight to hear it.

He was more than halfway to his destination when he heard the second round of voices - this time, from behind one of the closed doors he was passing by in front of.

“... just wish this whole ordeal would be over soon,”

“Yes, for your sake as well.”

Haru Okumura, he recognized immediately. Her voice was quite unmistakable even when it was muffled. Goro lingered by what he assumed was her bedroom door, trying to discern who she was talking to (it was probably one of the other thieves).

“What was it like for you? When Madarame…” Haru trailed off hesitantly.

Kitagawa, Goro thought in surprise.

“It was difficult, for a little while. Adjusting to living on my own and without anybody to go to for comfort was tricky, but I managed.”

“I’m glad to hear that,”

Goro was starting to feel a little ill, listening in to their entire conversation. He moved on quickly, resolving to get the job done as soon as possible.

The door to the master bedroom was heavy, its hinges unoiled and difficult to keep quiet as Goro pushed it open. It took an agonizingly long amount of time to get a gap wide enough to slip through, and by then his heart was hammering in his chest so hard he could feel it thrashing against his ribcage.

_No one can hear you._

And indeed, no one could. Despite the creaking, despite the heavy door struggling and scraping against the floor, no one came. Okumura didn’t even wake up. He stayed sleeping soundly in his bed. Goro closed the door behind him and pulled out his gun. It was one of the burners he had been given by Shido; unmarked, made by a private individual, so it couldn’t be traced to him. He’s only used it twice before, and he hasn't even replaced the two bullets he had used up since then. 

_Shoot him in the head, so it's quick._

Goro walked up to the side of the bed and carefully levelled his aim. At that close range, he couldn't possibly miss. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and - 

He just barely had enough time to draw back as a glint of silver flashed from the corners of his eyes. A wicked throwing knife cut through the air and sailed past where his arm had previously been, hitting the wooden frame of the headboard with a dull _thud_. 

Okumura jolted awake - which pulled a string of vile curses out from between Goro's lips as he turned and aimed at the intruder by the balcony doors. 

"Thank god I made it in time," Akira - Joker breathed, scrambling into the room. The backlight of the setting moon made him look more like a phantom than usual, even if he was just in his plainclothes and had no mask on. 

_Goddammit_ , he should have killed the thief when he had the chance.

“What in the world -” Okumura yelped.

“Shut your mouth.” Goro threatened, but kept his gaze locked on Joker. “And _you_ stay right where you are unless you want to take a bullet.”

The thief raised his red-gloved hands. Despite having tossed a knife away, something wicked still hung from his belt. His actual dagger, not a cheap throwing knife, and what looked to be the handle of a gun. He was well-armed this time - though Goro was doubtful that he would actually use those weapons for their intended purpose.

There was one extremely tense moment where no one spoke.

Goro didn’t actually know what he was going to do - at least in that moment. He’s never met with resistance before, not midway through a job like this. Perhaps it came with the territory of acting so impulsively, but even then, he's already done that _once_ before and it's never resulted in anything like this. Should he train the gun on Okumura and be done with it already, or should he shoot Joker before he did Okumura in? What should he do?

“Come on, lower your weapon.” Joker pleaded.

Nice of him to defer from using names. “Thanks, but I’d rather not.”

He shot at Joker, not at all surprised when he easily dodged the clumsy bullet. He grit his teeth and took careful aim this time, minding the number of bullets he had left.

Joker didn’t leave any room for friendly banter this time. He rushed right at Goro, one of his hands now brandishing that same silver dagger he had during their first encounter. It glinted blindingly in the waning moonlight. Goro put his hands up and blocked a blow to the temple that would have knocked him out, landing a punch with his free hand into Joker’s gut and knocking the wind from him momentarily.

Joker dropped to his knees, but managed to grab Goro by the collar and drag him down with him. The detective’s balance swung forward and he crashed down beside the thief. He felt the breath physically being pushed out of his lungs as he hit the floor, his ears only barely registering the sound of Okumura’s rustling sheets as he got up and fled the room.

_Damn it, goddamn it!_

“Ake -”

Goro rolled over and kicked Joker’s legs out from under him before he had any chance of even getting out a sentence. Akira hit the ground shoulder first. Goro scrambled to his feet and planted a knee right in the middle of Joker’s chest, keeping him pinned to the floor as he levelled his gun at the space between the thief’s mercurial eyes.

“I should have dealt with you earlier,” he hissed.

Akira stared back at him, red-gloved hands gripping his dagger for dear life. “Why didn’t you?”

It was a trap of a question, he knew.

Goro put his finger on the trigger and -

“Hey!”

He managed to jump back as something black and slender whizzed through the air, just barely missing his face as it let out a sinister _crack!_

“Hey man, are you okay?” 

Goro took the time to reload as the cavalry stormed in. Sakamoto bent down and helped Akira up from the floor as Ann stood in the space between them, her whip hanging from the crook of her elbow and her gun trained on him. She didn’t look particularly threatening at face-value - but upon closer inspection, it was clear that she held the tommy gun purposely and correctly. She’s used it before and she knew how to handle it. The only thing keeping her from being full-on threatening was the fact that she kept her finger on the trigger guard like a sensible person who was just a little spooked. 

Behind her, Sakamoto brandished his baseball bat with seemingly no intent to hold himself back, should the detective dare to come any closer than he already was. Akira held an arm gingerly over his abdomen, his shoulders heaving from how heavy he was breathing.

“Step out of my way, Ann.” He commanded.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be bargaining, Goro-kun.” The blonde replied firmly. “If you lower your weapon, then so will I.”

The detective swallowed hard. “Fine.”

He lowered his aim - and to her credit, so did she.

Well, Goro wasn’t looking to waste bullets on any of them anyway.

He ran full-tilt at Ann - which was a decidedly _stupid_ idea, considering how she was still holding a loaded weapon, but it was about the only thing he could do at that point. Goro managed to knock her to the ground from his sloppy tackle, and when her hold loosened from the fall he kicked away the gun and turned right around to intercept a baseball bat to the back of the head that would have knocked out what little sense he had left to him. The hit still collided with his arm, jarring his bones and coming fairly close to fracturing something if he hadn’t been wearing so many layers of clothing.

Goro didn’t have any time to curse under his breath. He ducked as another swing barely whizzed past his head, pulling back and landing another solid punch to Sakamoto’s stomach that abruptly halted the assault.. When he staggered back, Goro grabbed the bat and wrenched it from his hands, tossing it across the room and as far away as possible.

Akira was up next - and though Goro loathed to admit it, seeing him brandishing that dagger again was a little disconcerting. Guns were all well and good at a distance, but the thief was uncomfortably adept at using his blade and if he got too -

Goro decided not to go that route. He shot at Akira, taking note of how the bullet grazed his cheek despite his efforts to cleanly avoid it. 

That was enough of an opening. Goro darted past, veering hard left to avoid the red-gloved hand that came dangerously close to being able to grab at his coat. He rushed out the door and immediately ran down the hall, his heart hammering in his chest as he barreled down the darkened hallways of the manor in search of his target.

 _God_ , what a mess. In the likely event that he was going to have to investigate this case, it was going to be a hell to slog through.

The doorway to Haru Okumura’s room was wide open and there was a tall figure peering out as Goro ran past - but he didn’t stop to make sure that Kitagawa wouldn’t be chasing after him. There was no time at all to think about that. All he had to do now was to track down Okumura and do away with him.

Then he could leave and it would be over. It wouldn’t matter if Akira or any of the other thieves followed him home. He’d be done with this entire thing.

_But you wouldn’t, would you?_

The front door was still locked, so Okumura didn’t go out the front door. Goro shot down the left-hand corridor connecting to the rest of the house, spotting a dark figure turning the corner at the end of the shadowy corridor. 

_After this job, you’d just get another._

Goro found himself once again in the living room of the manor, Okumura in the far corner trying to convince his fingers to move accordingly so he could dial for help on the phone. Goro took careful aim and shot the damn thing right off the table it was sitting on - much to the surprise of Okumura, who turned to him with wide eyes.

“You are -”

The detective raised his gun.

_One to the head will do._

“Wait, listen to me!” The man pleaded, huddling against the wall and holding his hands out like they could physically form a barrier in front of him. “I, I don’t know what Shido is paying you but I can -”

_He’s not paying me a single goddamn cent._

And even if he did, Goro would never turn so easily at the prospect of it. That’s not what he took these jobs for. He didn’t take these jobs to get paid.

_“An excellent job as always - though that’s to be expected of you.”_

Goro put his finger on the trigger. Finally, this assignment would draw to a close.

Finally.

He pulled his finger back and…

“Father!”

He heard Haru Okumura’s voice coming dangerously close to where they were. He heard it first before the sharp explosion of gunfire.

Goro couldn’t say whether or not Haru ran up to him and altered his aim before he managed to fire off the shot; she _did_ tackle him from behind, but by then the bullet was already on its course so it’s a little hard to say. The two of them fell to the ground in a heap, smoke and the smell of gunfire clinging to their clothes as they tumbled over each other and onto the expensive carpet. The handgun bounced out of his hands and under the sofa and out of sight.

“Haru!” Kitagawa yelled as he came into the room.

There was another yell, then. One of pain.

Goro looked up as Okumura collapsed to the ground in front of him. There was a spray of deep scarlet against the wall behind him, and when he hit the ground the red soaked into the lush cream carpet beneath his body.

“Father!” Haru shrieked, her voice tight and broken and shrill as she scrambled to her feet and over to where Okumura was lying prone and unmoving on the floor. “Father, please, no…”

Her voice was painful to listen to. Even Goro would admit that.

The detective stood up and fully expected an assault from Kitagawa, but the young man just ran past him and towards Haru. It was a little anticlimactic, but it is what it is. Goro grabbed his firearm from under the sofa and sprinted out of the room before he could think too hard about what had just happened.

Out in the hall, he could hear footsteps thundering down the corridor and coming closer and closer. He turned in the opposite direction and cut through the dining room and into the kitchen, ignoring the maps and guns and bullets and bandages laid out on top of the dining table like the thieves had been preparing for a full-on war instead of an encounter with one armed detective.

He went out the way he came. Out through the kitchen, past the pool, through the garden…

“Akechi, wait!”

Past the mansion’s borders and far off into the night.

What a disaster.

What a complete and utter _disaster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I was dealt with a heavier load of schoolwork than I expected oops ʕ⊙ᴥ⊙ʔ
> 
> Even though I keep finishing all my schoolwork within the day they're assigned, I keep being awfully tired at the end of every day so this entire chapter stayed in editing hell for the past month or so and for that I feel really awful hahaha. The editing that had to be done to get this up was extreme as well... I kept editing out parts and switching them around, so this version is the frankenstein's monster version of what I originally started with lol
> 
> I debated giving Ann her whip, but well. It's there now so no take-backs, I guess.
> 
> Tune in next episode for a mention of ponytail Goro, lol.. Hope it doesn't take me an entire month this time around (though saying that will probably jinx it O u O).
> 
> Okay, goodbye lovelies ~ I hope you all have a nice day/afternoon/evening ♥♥


	9. On the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The detective goes MIA as he tries to stay alive. Elsewhere, the thief tries not to dwell on the thought of him.

“It’s an outrage, what happened to that Okumura fellow.”

Goro kept his eyes glued to the paper he was reading. _CEO OF OKUMURA FOODS FALLS INTO A COMA AFTER ATTEMPTED MURDER_ , the front page headline read in bold black letters. He narrowed his eyes at it and turned the page to the editorial column.

“Assaulted in his own home in the dead of night… Cops these days are getting too complacent.”

“Mm.” The detective hummed absently.

Dusk had begun to settle in the horizon, turning the sky varying hues of pink and violet in the final struggling moments of daylight. Goro looked up briefly to acknowledge the sunset fire, pushing up his false pair of glasses to be able to see through the glare of harsh fluorescent light on fingerprint smudges and dust particles on the lenses. It was a pretty sunset. One of the prettiest he’s ever seen.

One of the prettiest he ever would see, he debated.

“... don’t you think?”

Goro reached for his cup and downed the remaining contents. The coffee, even watered down, was too sweet. “Sorry, didn’t quite hear what you said,” he replied truthfully.

The man behind the counter huffed. “I said, the cops are missing a backbone these days. If the Mob gets ‘em then who cares so long as they manage to get one person in jail. _For the greater good_ , isn’t that right?”

Goro fished out what little change he had left in the pockets of his coat and placed them beside his empty cup. “It’s about time I take my leave.”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Hey, haven’t I seen you somewhere before?”

Goro smirked and ran a hand through his hair, brushing back the few locks that refused to be tied back in his messy low ponytail. “No, I don’t believe so. Have a good evening.”

_Five days._

Today marked the fifth day since he failed to kill Okumura.

Counting seemed like a tasteless endeavor, considering the state of his life at the moment, but the detective - ex-detective? - didn’t really have much else to do that would help him keep his sanity.

It’s been a rough five days. The day after the news got out - that Okumura was in critical condition, not _dead_ , and at an undisclosed hospital, Goro immediately knew that he was well and truly _fucked_. He chose not to go home that night - which was a decidedly smart decision, as his landlady called the station a few hours later in a fit of worry. Apparently several suspicious men had come by asking about him, and seeing as he hadn’t come home she had gotten concerned that he was caught up in something dangerous.

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Goro reassured her that he was just held up at work.

He managed to spend two more nights sleeping at his desk at the station, avoiding Makoto by constantly keeping the door closed as he worked on slogging through files in relation to his other open cases. It kept him safe for a while. Then on the third night, just as he was dozing off, the officer minding the front desk informed him that someone was looking for him. Goro told him, in the _nicest way possible_ , to tell the man to come back another time under the premise of being stressed by work. It seemed to work in his favor… The man said he’d stop by some other time. 

Credit where credit was due, at least he was smart enough to withdraw. Goro had been fully prepared to face that man down in the off-chance that he decided to storm in anyway, but it seems he wasn’t dumb enough to try and overpower an entire police station.

Still, that wasn’t going to work for long. Goro left the next day after processing a leave form.

 _“Akechi,”_ Makoto had called before he left her office.

He almost stopped. But he didn’t.

Goro closed the door to his hotel room with a tired sigh, blinking away the stinging pain that was irritating his eyes. It hasn’t rained for a while, and the air was getting drier and colder with each passing day. It was not a good time to be sleepless and slightly dehydrated.

He tossed his room key onto the dresser and dragged himself over to the bed. Sleep hasn’t visited him in a while - maybe because Goro was far too paranoid to even consider it; every time the air conditioner hissed or clicked, every time someone started walking about upstairs or out in the hall, everytime someone in the adjacent room started talking, he would immediately be on edge and wary.

Nowhere was safe now. He wasn’t safe anywhere so by extension, he couldn’t relax anywhere either. Someone could shoot him through the window - or they could break down the door and abduct him _before_ killing him somewhere discreet. That was a distinct possibility too.

 _Five days_.

Goro took off his fake glasses and placed them on the nightstand before collapsing on top of the mattress. Dust particles danced in the light above his face, drawing out a cough or two from him that he hid in the sleeve of his coat like someone would recognize him just from that sound alone. 

_Maybe a week._

He stared absently across the room, at the far corner beside the bathroom where the faded floral wallpaper was starting to peel off and curl up. Even though his own apartment was bare and had no decorations, the clean white walls were far more superior than _that_. He kind of missed his boring apartment, now that he knew that he couldn’t go back. He missed his terribly firm mattress and the sheets that never kept out the cold. He missed his alarm clock that always seemed to go off five minutes too early. The creaky kitchen window, the rickety dining chairs, the coffee maker…

_The coffee maker._

Goro sat up and held a hand up to his forehead.

_Akira…_

He got up and staggered to the bathroom, splashing cold water in his face in the hopes of dispelling the sick feeling that was settling into his stomach.

Five days, maybe a week… If he lived through that, then what? Akira and the other Thieves were probably already submitting incriminating evidence on him, just like Makoto said they would. Hell, the evidence was probably there already and Makoto was just waiting for the correct moment to bring it out and use it as grounds for a case. Even if he did manage to stay alive, what would that gain him? A life in jail, probably. That didn’t seem like living at all.

Goro wandered back into the room, taking off his coat and tossing it onto the foot of the bed. He would get rid of it - along with the glasses - tomorrow morning.

 _If_ he’s still alive by tomorrow, that is.

He lay back down, curled up on his side and staring at the suspicious stain on the wall beside the bed. In the dim, flickering light of the cheap bulb overhead, it almost looked like a bloodstain.

  
  


_“Don’t be like me.”_

Goro didn’t know how long he was asleep.

_“But you’re a good person,”_

But by the time he woke up,

_“You’ll see. The only thing good about me is that I love you.”_

He was pretty sure he was infinitely more tired than he had been before he dozed off.

It hadn’t been a graceful awakening, either… Although he hadn’t woken up with a jolt - like he would have if he was having a nightmare - he had found himself in the strange gray area between dream and reality, and for five entire minutes after he opened his eyes and saw the faded floral wallpaper he didn’t know if he was actually awake.

_“That’s good enough, isn’t it?”_

_Shit_ , Goro thought shakily. He dragged himself out of bed and staggered into the bathroom before he was even fully awake, dragging his limbs like they were dead weight clinging to his joints. 

_“That you love me, I think that makes you a good person.”_

He braced himself against the sink, gripping the porcelain edges like it would maintain his slipping grip on reality as he fought back the sickness clawing up his throat.

_“No, Goro. It doesn’t.”_

Goro hasn’t dreamed of her in a long while - which was more of a good thing than not, as seeing and hearing his mother in the hazy throes of a particularly intense fever dream is not something he aspired to experience. Memories of her were not the most pleasant, even if nothing vile was happening in them… Half the time, Goro wasn’t even sure if they counted as memories at all; he was almost sure that the few dreams he had of her were just constructions of his own mind, scenarios pieced together from flimsy recollections of her visage, of her voice. Of her.

“Tsk…” He held a hand up to his head. The dream definitely wasn’t fading fast enough.

It was a little surreal to see her in what could very possibly be his final dream. It was like an omen of sorts, like a glimpse into an afterlife he didn’t believe in.

_You’ll see._

And then - as if he didn’t have enough to deal with already - a knock on his door came.

It was faint, and almost inaudible. Much like the same knock that on his apartment door that catastrophic night five days ago; a little hesitant, as if the knocker didn’t want anyone hearing them. Goro didn’t even notice over the sound of running water as he washed his face in an attempt to further wake himself up. It was only when he turned off the tap that he heard it. 

A faint rhythm on wood.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Goro stilled.

It took a moment. His head was still a bit foggy, and he couldn’t think straight. In fact, for one solid moment, he was about ready to yell at Joker to go home and look for some other detective to harass, now that he was effectively on death row.

Then.

 _Oh,_ he thought, the tops of his fingers going cold and numb. _Shit._

Goro crept back out into the room, keeping his footsteps light as he made his way to the door. The knocking was in quick bursts of threes with slight pauses in between, as if the person on the other side only knew the morse code for S in SOS but was trying desperately to get their message across anyway. Every time the silence returned, Goro’s pulse doubled in speed.

_Knock, knock, knock._

Silence.

Then, 

_Knock, knock, knock_.

And again, and again… and Goro liked to think that he could move fast even when he was trying to be quiet, but this time was different. This time, the lethargic pull of still being half-asleep and combined with the heavy drag of a lingering bad dream was slowing him down. He couldn’t move quickly even if he wanted to.

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock_.

Goro’s eye twitched as he reached the door. He braced himself against the wood and carefully looked out of the peephole.

A crisp, clean suit, and sunglasses in the middle of the night.

_Fuck._

The man out in the hallway reached out again and knocked. The vibrations rattled against Goro’s ribs and forced him to pull back.

Nowhere left to run.

Goro stepped back, stifling his heavy breathing with one hand. He looked around the room, hazy eyes falling in and out of focus as he tried to keep his head level. Was there something in there that he could use to defend himself? Well, he had his gun, but there were only five bullets left in there (he forgot to grab more when he left the station that night) and he didn’t want to shoot anyone else. He knew he had neighbors, he knew there were guests in the adjacent rooms. Besides, the gunshots would send people scrambling for the police.

 _Knock_.

God,

 _Knock_.

What else did he have?

_Knock._

Fuck.

Goro rushed back to the bed, grabbing his coat and rummaging through the pockets in search for something, _anything_ that could give him even a fighting chance. House keys, some loose change and a few crumpled bills, pills…

_Pills?_

A dull thud against the door made him jump. The pill bottle slipped between his shaky fingers and bounced along the carpeted floor, rolling underneath the bed.

“Shit!” Goro scrambled to pick it up.

Another dull thud. They were trying to break down the door, now. 

Jesus, did they have _zero_ self-preservation instinct? And in a fucking hotel, even. Under any other circumstance, Goro would have been absolutely _pissed_ that was going to die at the hands of someone like _that_ . Someone careless, someone so utterly reckless that _they_ should be on the receiving end of the guillotine, not him.

Another thud against the door - stronger this time, and paired with the sickening crack of splintering wood. Goro glanced back briefly to see the upper left corner of the door beginning to give way, ever-so-slightly separating from the hinges and letting in the dim light from the hallway. 

Three more hits until it completely gave way, probably. Four if Goro was lucky - which he was _not_.

Goro took one last look around his room in a last-ditch effort to cobble together a plan. He could jump out of the window if he was desperate enough, but three storeys was still three storeys. He could shatter the mirror and get a weapon from the shards - but what would that do against a long-ranged gun? 

“Dammit,” he hissed.

Wasn’t there anything?!

Another thud. A second crack. The door had separated from the second hinge; one more hit and the door would come clean off the frame. 

_Wait._

With no more room for hesitating, Goro yanked the sheets and the duvet right off the bed just as the door finally gave way, forcing him to scurry back as it crashed to the ground at his feet.

He braced himself and waited for just a split second - just until the person had taken one single step, their heels tapping against the wooden door underfoot - before he hurled all of the bundled fabric in his arms towards the intruder. 

It was stupid, but it did what it had to. The man flailed as the sheets engulfed his vision, the weighty comforter forcing him to stagger as it smacked right into him. Goro rushed forward shoulder-first and landed a solid hit that sent him crashing to the floor with a startled string of curses.

Goro sidestepped the tangled heap of limbs and sheets and rushed out the door. He sprinted down the hall and towards the fire exit, trying to force his legs to go faster as doors began opening along the hallway and footsteps began climbing up the stairs. He almost reached for his gun, just so he could have something to ground himself in that moment - except he had left it and its holster in the bathroom tub in his room.

The stairwell of the fire exit was dimly lit and smelled faintly of mildew. Goro was teetering on the edges of sanity as he ran down the steps two at a time, constantly listening to the faint hum of the lights overhead in case any other sound interrupted the buzz. His footsteps were sharp and loud like firecrackers. He hoped that he would be able to tell if someone was following him, but his pulse was roaring too loudly in his ears for him to hear anything clearly.

Goro burst out into the alley beside the hotel, a rush of freezing nighttime air hitting him dead in the face and sending an almost paralyzing chill running down his spine and biting into the rest of his bones.

_Keep going!_

He walked out onto the street as auspiciously as possible, fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket as he followed the streetlights further and further away from the hotel. There were three other people along the same street as him - two women and a man - and they looked harmless enough, but Goro still hastened his pace and walked past them. He didn’t want to take any chances. Even if they _weren’t_ from the Mob, they’d be witnesses. If anyone came looking for him they would be able to tell where he went.

The station wasn’t far from where he was. It wasn’t too late in the night, probably around midnight judging by the position of the moon (that bastard _really_ wasn’t thinking, was he)... The trains were probably still running. Maybe the last train was just pulling into the station. He could make it if he walked fast enough. Or ran.

_But…_

Where would he even go?

“... over there?”

“Are you looking for him?”

_It doesn’t matter._

Goro hastened his pace and crossed the street, slipping into a narrow alley between two buildings that would lead out to the other side of the street. 

It wouldn’t matter where he went. All he had to do - for now, at least, was to get away. All he had to do was to shake off the man trailing him and he would be fine for a few more days. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully.

It wouldn’t matter where he would go, as long as he stayed alive.

  
  


_Five days._

“Yeesh, they’re getting bolder by the day…”

Akira Kurusu glanced up from one champagne flute he had been drying for the past ten minutes.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“Nothing,” the man sitting in front of him replied., chewing on the unlit cigarette in his mouth as he folded up the paper he had been reading. Akira glimpsed the headline before it was gone; _OKUMURA IN COMA_ , the front page said in big bold letters. “Don’t suppose you were involved in this?”

“Define _involved_.”

The man snorted. “Well you weren’t the one _shooting_ , that’s for sure. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have hit him, would you?”

Akira cracked a smile despite himself. “Hey, I’ve been practicing.”

“Sure you have, kid. Shinya told Kaoru that you’ve been blowing him off lately.”

“Well to be fair, I had exams coming up…”

“If you say so, kid.” The man replied lightly. He downed the last of his drink and stood up. “It’s about time I get going. Thanks for the drink.”

“See you around, Iwai.”

Akira watched him leave, newspaper tucked under his arm and the headline still peeking out slightly from underneath the folds of his coat.

_Five days._

It’s been five days since… well, since _that_.

Five days was usually not a long time, for Akira. He was always so busy with his life; always rushing to get to class on time in the morning, always bustling around town meeting people in the afternoon, always gathering information or working at the Velvet Room during the evenings… There was always something for him to do, always something taking up his time. The days always seemed short and not long enough.

These past five days have been tortuous in length. Everything seemed to drag on for eons longer than they had any right to; forty-five-minute lectures felt like three-hour seminars, a brief run-in with a friend on the street seemed to last an entire hour instead of a minute, and his shifts at work seemed to be taking up years and years of his life instead of five measly hours. 

It didn’t particularly help that nobody was talking about anything other than Okumura. Everywhere he went, there were always whispers of the many absurd (and oftentimes uncomfortably close to the truth) allegations about why Okumura was almost murdered in his own home. He couldn’t go five steps without hearing the name - and no offense meant to Haru, who was severely distraught at the situation, but…

He didn’t really want to hear about it. Not right now.

 _Ugh_ , he shook his head and grabbed one of his cleaning rags. He shouldn’t be thinking about that at the minute. He should be working, he should be -

“Akira?”

He froze.

“Akira,”

_No, it can’t…_

The hand that grabbed his arm from across the counter was ungloved - which made him think that maybe he was just hearing things, deluding himself into hearing what he wanted to hear. But when he looked up and found himself looking right into a pair of wine-colored, it definitely snapped him out of it.

“Akechi,” he breathed.

Some odd mixture of relief and frustration crossed his features. He pushed back several stray locks of hair that had escaped his low ponytail and wrestled his coat sleeve back up onto his shoulder. He looked absolutely _harassed._

“Yes,” he nodded urgently. “Listen -”

“What are you _doing_ here?” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, _I don’t have anywhere else to go_.” He whispered sharply.

In any other context, Akira would almost be flattered that he was even considered an option to begin with.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re not safe here,”

“ _Obviously_.”

“Why didn’t you go to the station?”

Akechi regarded him with obvious disgust as he leaned over the counter, gripping Akira’s arm so tightly that his knuckles were going white.

“Are you fucking serious? I would get shot five paces from it. They’re expecting me to go there.”

“Why didn’t -”

“Can you help me or not?”

Akira surveyed the bar cautiously in case anyone had noticed him come in. He doubted that anyone would recognize Akechi with how he looked like now, especially in the dark like this, but he really would feel better if he was sure. Fortunately there was only one other person in the entire establishment - and he had yet to look up from his drink.

“... Let’s go -”

 _To the back_ , he was about to say. _We can talk in the backroom_.

The door to the Velvet Room burst open before Akira could finish, straining on its hinges as it slammed into the wall beside it. Akechi jumped (which was one of many alarming and concerning firsts that Akira was seeing from him that night) and turned on his heels, cursing under his breath as a man wearing some very impractical sunglasses walked into the establishment.

 _Shit_ , Akira muttered.

“Get behind the counter,” the raven said quietly.

Akechi glanced at him from the corners of his eyes. “That -”

“ _Hurry_.” Akira tensed, eyeing the newcomer anxiously. Thus far he hasn’t seem to have noticed them, as his eyes were still surveying the opposite side of the room but they only had a few seconds before they were spotted. “Before -”

“What do you want me to do, leap over the damn thing?!”

The man turned to look in their direction - and Akira’s heart seized up mid-beat.

“Yes, hurry up!”

Akechi didn’t seem to appreciate the answer, but he steeled himself anyway and stepped back. In one swift motion, he planted a hand on the counter and jumped right over it.

Not a moment sooner; just as the detective made it to the other side, a bullet whizzed through the air where he had been and shattered a bottle of whiskey on the shelves behind the bar. Akira caught his breath and ducked down beside the brunet, his pulse roaring through his ears as he tried to get his bearings straight.

“What now?” Akechi asked him.

_Good question._

Two more gunshots were fired off right after that, splintering the wood of the counterface behind them. One of them went straight on through and almost pierced through Akira’s shoulder.

_Come on, think._

The raven reached out and rummaged around in the cupboards in front of him. There were some old glasses stored away in there, and several clean rags… He grabbed a whiskey glass and began wrapping it around a rag just so it would appear more opaque and easier to spot.. He doubted that this would work, but they didn’t really have any choice here.

Another bullet passed clean through the wood, coming far too close to the side of Akechi’s head and spooking Akira so much that he almost dropped the glass.

“What are you -”

“Are you armed?” Akira asked hopefully.

“What? No, I lost my gun a while back.”

 _Crap._ “Then stay here and wait a bit. I’ll take care of him.”

Akechi looked uncertain. “How?”

After a split-second of deliberation (and another bullet lodging into the counter), Akira reached into the pockets of his apron and pulled out his pistol. He hasn’t really used it since they faced down Kaneshiro, but lately he’s been carrying it around just in case. He didn’t want to die without a fight in the off chance that he got cornered by a mobster.

“Why are you carrying that around?” The detective asked, bewildered. Another bullet passed through the counter and into the cupboard.

“What, you think you’re the only dead man walking around here?”

That shut him up real quick, the raven noted in amusement.

“All right, sit back and -” Another bullet. Geez, how much ammunition did they have? “Try not to die, I guess?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

With that, Akira shifted to a crouch and moved a bit further away from Akechi, just so he could divert the stream of bullets from that general direction.. He would only get one try at this, and if he screwed it up they were dead.

_You got this, okay?_

Akira waited until the next shot went off, hitting the wood with another splintering _crack_ before he got up and punted the rag-covered glass into the air and over the counter.

Just as he expected, the man fired his next round at it. Akira took the sound of shattering glass as his cue to stand up, take aim, and fire. His bullet hit Mr. Sunglasses right in the knee, drawing out a flurry of agonized curses from his mouth as he fell to the ground. 

The raven grabbed a bottle from behind him and leaped out from behind the counter. He had to knock that man out before anything else.

He sprinted full-tilt towards the end of the room, but midway through a sudden blur of black collided with him and knocked him into a nearby table. He banged his right shoulder hard against the sharp edge and hit the tile floor hard on his side. The impact jarred the senses right out of him and knocked the bottle out of his hands.

 _Shit!_ He tightened his hold on his gun. At least he still had that.

“That all you takes to knock you down, kid?”

A fist collided with his jaw before he could even begin to process what was going on. Stars exploded in his vision and the taste of iron filled his mouth. He held up his arm and managed to block the next hit, but he was still pinned and he had to do something about it.

“So you’re the thief, eh?” The man - who Akira realized had been the one customer he glimpsed earlier - smirked and grabbed the raven by his collar. “Flighty one, you are. No wonder they couldn’t catch you.”

“I’m honored.”

“Hey!”

The man straddling him looked up just in time to get a mouthful of chardonnay and glass. He fell over with a dull thud, and Akira wiggled out from under him as Akechi tossed away the remnants of the bottle he had just smashed into the face of the assailant.

“You okay?” The detective offered a hand.

“Thanks -”

A silver glint in the corner of Akira’s eyes shattered whatever momentary relief he had at being saved. He grabbed the brunet’s hand and pulled him down just as another round of bullets started cutting through the air above them.

“That was close,” Akira sighed heavily.

Akechi shook his head in disdain. “Come on, get up!” 

Mr. Sunglasses was still reloading - which was great and gave them a bit of time to gather their bearings as they scrambled to their feet. Akira kicked at the body of the man that Akechi had knocked out, but thankfully he was still out cold. One less problem to deal with.

“Hey, Akechi,” he began, turning to the matter at hand.

“Absolutely _not_.” The detective squared his shoulders and pushed up his sleeves. Through the unruly strands of his long hair, his glare looked feral. “I can barely take him alone. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,”

“Spare me.”

Akira snorted and raised his pistol once more, taking aim just as Mr. Sunglasses did the same. For one heart-rending moment, no one did anything. No one moved. It almost seemed like no one was breathing. The raven was sorely tempted to just pull the trigger and be done with it, but he would probably die just as quickly if he did that. Besides, he already shattered the man’s kneecap; he wasn’t really in the mood to puncture his rib. (That would probably kill him - and Akira was _not_ in the business of doing that.)

“Pathetic until the very end I see.” The man remarked snidely.

Akechi tensed up. “You say that, but I’m not the one wearing sunglasses at night.”

 _God_ , Akira wanted to laugh so badly.

“And you,” Mr. Sunglasses turned to the raven. “What’s the point in protecting him? If you turn him in you know Shido-san might even exonerate you, eh?”

“Tempting, but big words won’t sway me. I don’t side with anyone who works with Shido.”

Perhaps Akira was seeing things, but Akechi noticeably relaxed when he said that. It wasn’t saying much, though; he was still tense, ready to duck out of the way when a bullet inevitably came hurtling his way. 

“What’s in it for you?”

Akira arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“What’re you getting by protecting him, huh? Aren’t you enemies?”

“Well, he’s not with you guys anymore, is he? Otherwise you wouldn’t be out to kill him.” Akira eyed the single table still standing between him and the man. They were far too close for comfort. “And you know what they say: _the enemy of my enemy is my friend_.”

Akira veered hard right as a bullet whizzed past the side of his head, just barely nicking his ear before flying across the room and breaking another bottle. ( _These assholes sure don’t give a fuck, do they,_ he thought in frustration.) He knocked away the chair in front of him and kicked hard at the table, seeding it crashing into Mr. Sunglasses and throwing his aim to the ceiling just as he fired off another shot. 

Akechi sprinted forward and kicked his injured leg out from under him. The man came down cursing, but he still managed to catch the detective’s hand mid-punch. Akira rushed into the fray and grabbed his armed hand before he could even point the barrel in the detective’s general direction. 

He managed to fire off a round into the floor before Mr. Sunglasses shoved back Akechi, freeing up his other hand and landing a solid blow to Akira’s cheek, sending him staggering back in surprise.

 _Shit_ , that smarts.

“Akira!”

The raven knocked into another table and almost fell backwards if he wasn’t grabbed by the collar and tossed another direction. The sudden movement pulled his balance out from under him and he could do little else but brace for impact as he was thrown into Akechi, intercepting his attempt to get in another hit.

They tumbled to the ground, and the fall finally managed to knock Akira’s gun right out of his hand and under the shadows of several toppled tables and chairs.

“Fuck!”

“Did you just -” Akechi started to say underneath him before yelling, “Move!”

The brunet grabbed Akira by the arms and rolled them both out of the way just as a bullet lodged into the floor, shattering several of the checkerboard tiles beside the detective’s head.

“Hope you have a plan, wise guy!” Akechi remarked, a tinge of nervousness creeping into his voice.

Akira got up quickly. “I do. But you’re gonna have to give me some room to work.”

He grabbed a nearby chair and swung it around as quickly as his strained muscles would allow (lifting things was _not_ his specialty at all), almost smirking in satisfaction as it connected with a sick _crack_ as one of the spindles splintered into pieces on impact. 

As Mr. Sunglasses reeled from the hit, Akechi took advantage of the lull to run forward and finally, _finally_ disarm him. The detective managed to seize the gun from him with relative ease, and he was quick to turn the dangerous end of it on the hit man with an astoundingly enraged expression on his face.

“Akechi,” Akira warned.

“Fuck off, I’m not out for a death sentence.” He replied sharply - which didn’t convince Akira at all.

“Not bad.”

They both turned to Mr. Sunglasses as he chuckled, hands held up in surrender as he regarded both of them with much interest. He had lost his sunglasses in the fray, and the way his eyebrows were set made him look more intense even when he was being held at gunpoint.

“Still took two of you to take me… but not bad.”

Akira didn’t know how to take that compliment. It felt weird to be complimented by someone who has been trying vehemently to kill them thus far.

“Hey.”

Akechi glanced at him cautiously. Mr. Sunglasses followed suit - but more out of curiosity than anything else.

“How much does Shido’s network know about the Phantom Thieves?”

Mr. Sunglasses snorted. “Only you, kid. You’re quite good at keeping secrets, I’ll give you that.”

Akira relaxed.

That was good enough. For now.

“Anything else you wanna ask me? I’m all ears right now.”

“Some accomplice you are,” Akechi muttered.

“Kid, Shido pays me but that doesn’t mean I like him.” Mr. Sunglasses laughed. “ I’m fucked anyway, might as well take him down with me.”

Akira shook his head. “I know enough.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

As if on cue, the shrill scream of sirens outside the building pierced loudly through the air. Police sirens, Akira thought urgently. He turned to Akechi with a questioning look. There was a phone behind the counter, could he have -

“I was the one who called Niijima-san.”

The thief and the detective tossed curious looks over their shoulders.

“Lavenza,” Akira breathed.

The girl smiled brightly back at him. “You were quite loud, it wasn’t hard to discern that you were in need of a little bit of assistance.”

He had completely forgotten that she was there in the chaos of things. He was thankful that she was present, though; at least they wouldn’t have to wait around in nervous anticipation to wait for the cops to arrive.

“Thank you.”

“But you have to go. If the police see Akechi-san…” She shook her head grimly.

“Well I’m up for escaping, but I’m kind of preoccupied here,” the detective replied drily.

“Please, allow me.”

Akira was surprised when another familiar (and exhausted-looking) face emerged from the back of the Velvet Room. “Minato-senpai? You didn’t tell me you were coming in today.”

“I wasn’t planning to, but I stopped by earlier for something and ended up taking an eight-hour nap in the backroom.” The older man replied casually. “Mind if I borrow your gun?”

“Oh, that's not mine. I lost mine in the fight, somewhere..."

"Makes things easier for me, then."

Akira watched in amusement as Akechi handed over the pistol with much hesitation. (He was much taller than Minato as well, which made the entire thing a little more hilarious.)

“All right,” Minato yawned and took aim. “Go on, scram. Lavenza and I will handle things here.”

“Hold on there, you schmucks.” Mr. Sunglasses interjected. “What makes you think I -”

Akira jumped when Minato fired. The bullet tore a clean red line on the side of his neck. Blood started trickling down his skin like rain running down a windowsill. Not fatal, but concerning, to say the least. He always forgot just how adept the older man was with firearms.

“You’re gonna say you never saw them or you’re getting a bullet in your mouth. Capiche?”

Mr. Sunglasses didn’t reply.

The sirens were upon them now, ear-piercing and just outside in the street. Whatever time they might have had to keep chatting had now expired.

“Come on,” Akira gestured for Akechi to follow him. “Thank you again, Lavenza.”

“Be safe on your way, trickster.”

Both thief and detective fled to the backroom, walking past the offices and down the hall towards the back exit leading out into the alley beside the Velvet Room. Neither of them spoke the entire way, too afraid that someone would hear them escaping. They didn’t talk once they were out on the street, either. To utter a single sound felt like an invitation to danger. The sirens were so close, so painfully close and even if they were loud they didn't seem loud enough to cover the sound of their shuffling footsteps as they ran down the street, far and away from the scene of the crime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I got stuck writing this midway through for a long time, so I decided to give the second half to Akira and it did wonders for dealing with that struggle, hahaha. I was also planning to put this up before November, as I'm writing not fanfiction for NaNoWriMo this year and I wasn't sure I would be able to pace out my schedule adequately what with school and all, but anyways. Here we are, lol.
> 
> Full disclosure, I'm still planning several chapters to be written from Akira's point of view, so this is kind of like a soft experiment to see how these kinds of POV shifts will be structured in the future (✿╹◡╹).
> 
> Also also, fun fact number 2: I debated whether or not it should be Theo who volunteers to hold Mr. Sunglasses hostage at the end, but he wasn't enough of an edgelord for that (on the contrary he's quite the opposite) so I decided that Minato, xxXEdgelord09Xxx, would be a much better suited side character for that role so, there's a little P3 cameo for you all! I love me my emo MC (´∀`)
> 
> Anyways, hope you're all safe and having a lovely day/afternoon/evening wherever you are ♥♥♥


	10. Momentary Serenity

Waking up the next day to the smell of freshly-brewed coffee was completely surreal.

Goro sat up and ran a hand through his hair, breathing in deeply and trying to commit the aroma to memory. Even when he made coffee at home it never seemed to smell as pleasant (probably because he always did it so poorly), and the coffee at the station always had a burnt sort of tinge to it that he absolutely hated.

 _This is… nice,_ he thought gingerly.

Waking up at noon, actually feeling like he got some sleep for once, not having to worry about work or getting unmarked letters and unsolicited phone calls from people he hated…

It was nice.

For however short it lasted, it was nice.

“Oh, good morning.”

Akira was outside in the kitchen when Goro wandered out of the bedroom at around noon (roughly an hour after he initially woke up). It was unnerving to see the raven first thing in the morning; a few weeks ago, the thief’s presence in his apartment had been a warning sign of hours and hours of roundabout interrogations disguised as stupid arguments about some niche topic in the field of philosophy or psychology. It wasn’t terribly boring or frustrating, but it would always set Goro on edge whenever he visited because he always felt like someone was following Akira to his location - and whether or not it was the police on his tail or the Mob didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was afraid someone sooner or later would see the masked vigilante climbing in through his fire escape window and think that they were affiliated or something of the sort.

But that wasn’t the point now. Goro was the one in Akira’s apartment - and there were other more unnerving things about the situation now.

Although Akira tried to hide it with a warm smile, it was difficult to ignore the dark bruises along his jaw, the one uncomfortably close to his right eye… Bad reminders of last night. None of them had been obvious when the lights were low and Goro was too high on adrenaline to be able to see clearly, but now in broad daylight and without his fake glasses to act as a distraction, the raven looked absolutely _horrible_.

 _You did that_.

 _He looks like that because of you_.

“Good… morning,” Goro managed to say.

Saying that felt _strange_... It was like letting a pill melt on his tongue instead of washing it down with water. He shouldn’t have said anything.

“Did you sleep well?”

“... How long have you been up?” Goro didn’t want to answer his question.

Akira didn’t seem to mind. “A few hours. I called Makoto at first light to ask about the situation, and I called Ann and Ryuji a little while ago to tell them about what’s happened since last night,” he replied curtly. And all with that accommodating smile.

Goro swallowed hard.

_Aren’t you tired?_

He would have asked. He wanted to. But the way darkness lingered in the spaces beneath Akira’s eyes was already enough of an answer for him.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Oh.” Akira looked away sheepishly. “You looked like you needed to get some sleep.”

_Right…_

An uncomfortable silence settled between them as Goro crossed the room and sat down at the dining table. The raven turned away from him and grabbed a mug from the drain beside the kitchen sink - even though there was already a steaming cup of coffee on the table where he had been standing. Goro watched him warily, trying to figure out how to broach the subject that clearly needed to be addressed.

_About last night…_

Last night didn’t feel _real_. Right after they fled the Velvet Room, he and Akira had agreed that settling down for the night was the best course of action even though that would dangerously raise the chances of them getting cornered. The fight at the speakeasy had completely burnt both of them out; if they tried running, they would sooner kill themselves out of exhaustion before any hitmen even came close to levelling a gun at their heads.

Yongen-Jaya wasn’t completely safe by any means, but the mob barely had a presence there so it was safer than anywhere else that Goro could think of. It was certainly safer than his own apartment. Getting there was a little difficult - Akira ahd to pull a few favours in from a kind, middle-aged man (that Goro could swear he had seen before) just so they could catch a ride there and avoid walking the entire way - but they managed to make it.

 _“Take the bed,”_ the thief told him as he all but crashed onto the couch.

Goro wanted to protest, but Akira was asleep before he could ever get a word in.

“... So what’s the plan now?”

Akira walked back to the table and placed a cup of coffee on the table in front of him, humming in contemplation at the question.

“Well, to be honest I’m not sure yet. Makoto is our strategist, so I’m gonna have to wait for her input on this before I decide on anything else. That’s the smart thing to do.”

 _Makoto, huh…_ “How are things on her end?”

“Right now? She has you classified as a missing person, and it seems Mr. Sunglasses didn’t say anything about you, so you’re not in trouble yet.”

 _Mister…_ Goro shook his head. “What about your colleagues, at the speakeasy?”

“Oh, Lavenza and Minato-senpai are fine. They had to clean up a bit after we left. But all in all there was very little damage. A bit of wasted alcohol and a few holes on the shelves, maybe, but little else.”

Goro almost breathed a sigh of relief, but the wellbeing of Akira’s acquaintances wasn’t _really_ what he was concerned about. Not really. There were other things he wanted to ask - other things that were far more stupid, but far more significant to him.

_Last night…_

He took a sip from his cup of coffee. It tasted a lot like the brew Akira made him weeks ago when they were talking in his apartment the night before the Okumura incident; a little sweet, a bit creamier. Certainly better than the awful black coffee that he was used to taking on a daily basis.

“About last night…” He finally said, spurred on by the power of caffeine.

Akira grabbed his cup from the table and took his place leaning back against the kitchen counter, completely ignoring the dining chair that was pulled out in front of him. If Goro wasn’t mistaken, it almost seemed like he was putting more distance between them. But maybe that was just the post-adrenaline crash talking nonsense in his head.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” The raven asked worriedly.

“No,” _It’s not that._ “I, I was just…”

Damn, Goro didn’t know how to say it.

He didn’t _want_ to say it. He didn’t want to say what he was thinking because he didn’t want to hear an answer that he didn’t like.

_Last night,_

“Why…”

Akira frowned.

_Just ask him already._

“Why… did you help me?”

Goro refused to look up and meet Akira’s eyes. He didn’t want to see what expression the raven had on, especially when he replied with a very confused,

“What?”

He tightened his hold on his cup even though it was so hot, it felt like the first layer of his skin was going to burn right off. “Why did you help me? You shouldn’t have. You should have turned me in, or let the guy kill me. But you didn’t.”

“That…”

_Go on._

_Tell me the truth._

It seemed like so long ago, but he could still vaguely remember the instances where Akira made it vehemently clear that they weren’t friends. _“Don’t flatter yourself_ ,” he had smirked. And as condescending and annoying as it had been, at least it was a straightforward answer. At least Goro was right not to expect anything; not sympathy, not empathy - common decency, maybe, a certain kindness for strangers that were down on their luck... Akira seemed like the kind of person who would treat complete nobodies with garden-variety kindness. He was annoyingly heroic, that way.

Goro could maybe believe that Akira had helped him just out of moral obligation, since he was literally about to get killed right in front of him.

But if he wasn’t in danger of getting killed by the mob…

_Would you have helped me?_

Goro tapped his fingers along the outside of the cup and grit his teeth so his words wouldn’t come out of his mouth.

_If I wasn’t about to die… would you still have helped me?_

_Or would you have turned me in long ago?_

He didn’t want to ask that question. He didn’t want to ask _anything_. He didn’t want to hear any of the answers that Akira had for him because he knew that he wouldn’t want to hear any of them anyway. None of them would ever be the right answer and he knew it.

“I’m sorry, nevermind that.” He stood up abruptly - the force of which sent a violent wave of ripples tearing through the previously serene surface of his coffee and sending several drops of it running down the side of the side of it like rain down a window pane in a storm.

“Wait -”

“Excuse me.”

He left quickly before Akira could say anything.

 _God…_ Goro didn’t want to be there.

He didn’t want to be in Akira’s apartment, where the walls were painted a warm beige and there were pictures and paintings hanging on the walls and watching him as he walked back down the short hallway and made his way back into the bedroom. Akira’s bedroom. He didn’t want to be lying down on Akira’s bed, which smelled exactly like him - well-blended coffee, with a faint hint of alcohol. He didn’t want to be in such a pleasant and welcoming environment while he was fully aware that he wasn’t supposed to be there.

Goro wasn’t supposed to be there.

He was supposed to be in jail.

No, he was supposed to be _dead_ and he knew it.

Goro closed his eyes tightly and held an arm over them to block out the light coming in from the window. (Akira had parted the curtains at some point to let in the sun. Goro knew because last night when he went to bed he definitely made sure that they were closed.)

_Last night…_

He didn’t really trust Akira with his life. Not really. Goro didn’t trust anyone that way (not even himself) - and even if that was the case, he would have gone to Ann first. He trusted Ann way more than he did Akira, considering how often the raven broke into his apartment without his consent.

But…

_But what?_

“Because I wanted to.”

Goro sat up with a jolt.

Akira was standing in the doorway of the room, his expression unreadable and his hands tucked safely away in his pockets to keep from fidgeting and giving away whatever emotion he was feeling at that moment. His grey eyes twinkled like polished silver in the daylight.

“What?” Goro sputtered.

“You asked me why I did it, why I helped you.” Akira replied, his voice level and calm to a perturbing degree. “It’s because I wanted to. That’s all. That’s it.”

Goro blinked.

_That…_

“You’re ridiculous,” he laughed.

Akira smiled. “Wow, I made the famously uptight detective prince laugh! How wonderful.”

“ _Ex-_ detective.”

“You’re not off the force yet.”

Goro fell back against the pillows with a light thud. Akira’s bed was far softer than his, so doing that didn’t damage his spine or skull in any way shape or form. It was an interesting new experience to not be sore from sleeping on an actual bed.

“... I don’t think I’ll return to being a detective, if this works out.” He whispered.

“Really? Why not?”

_Because it’s not what I wanted to do, anyway._

“It… seems disingenuous,” he lied. “You know, to come back after…”

_After committing several murders and getting other people arrested for it._

_After getting other people thrown in jails for crimes that I committed._

_After sending dozens of people to the hospital with fatal injuries and pretending that it was all just an unfortunate accident…_

For many things, really. Many things that Akira knew already, and for many more things that the raven (hopefully) didn’t know about. Things that Goro didn’t wish to elaborate on. There were too many things fighting for attention at the forefront of his mind - and he said none of them. None of them seemed appropriate for the conversation they were having at that moment.

“What would you do, then?” Akira asked, flawlessly filling in the silence that was only beginning to fester in the air between them.

“If I wasn’t a detective?”

“Mm-hm.”

Goro stared up at the bare wooden rafters that crisscrossed along the ceiling like he would find an answer there.

 _What would he do…_ huh?

“I’ve never really thought about that before.” Goro admitted.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Your life sounds terribly sad when you put it that way.”

 _My life_ is _terribly sad_. 

“I’m a very busy person, unlike you. I don’t have time to be indulging in what-ifs.”

“You have time now. Indulge me for a moment and try to think about it now, if just for a while. I personally like to think that you’d be an excellent novelist.”

Goro turned on his side, just so he could meet Akira’s gaze. His tone of voice was carefree, flippant to a degree, but he looked like he was completely invested in the topic at hand. Even though he sounded like he was just talking for the sake of talking, the way he looked at Goro made it seem like he actually wanted to know the answer.

And for a moment, Goro almost believed that Akura wanted to hear about what he had to say.

“I’d rather not get into it. I’m sorry.” he shook his head.

They didn’t have the time to be doing this.

Sitting around having coffee, engaging in idle banter… They shouldn’t have been doing that while they were in such a delicate situation. When they could get killed at any moment. They should have - 

_No._

No, that wasn’t it at all.

“Okay. That’s fine, too.” Akira took a step back out into the hallway. 

_That’s not it._

That they could die at any moment…

_That’s not it at all._

“Get some rest if you need to, okay? Ann and Ryuji won’t be here for another half hour.”

“What will you do?”

“Uh… I’ll look for my cat, I guess.”

“You have a cat?”

“Yes. But Morgana is quite an independent feline, so he tends to disappear from time to time. There’s a kind old man down the street who keeps feeding him fish so that’s my theory as to where he goes.”

 _A cat, huh…_

Goro thought that Akira might have been more of a dog person.

_Wait._

What the hell is he thinking?

“Wake me up when they get here.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it.”

“Okay, I’m sorry for not waking you up this morning!” Akira laughed.

Goro did not. He managed a smile, but it was so fickle that the moment the raven looked away it shattered to pieces. He didn’t know the last time he had to hold a smile like that; it’s been so long since he was in the public eye that he was out of practice.

He watched silently as Akira reached for the doorknob and began to pull the door closed. He did it so slowly… and the look on his face…

_Don’t say it._

“Hey, Akechi,”

_No. Don’t say it._

“Yes?”

Akira looked at him through the small gap between the door and the doorframe. “You can talk to me if you want to. Okay? I’ll listen.”

“... I’ll keep that in mind,” Goro replied.

Akira nodded and finally closed the door.

He wished Akira hadn’t said that. Now he was going to think about that the entire day - and maybe every day afterwards from then on. 

  
  


If anyone ever asked Goro why he decided to ask Akira for help that night, he would have a myriad of answers ranging from _‘Because he was the nearest person’_ to _‘Because he’s the only one who wouldn’t ask questions_ ’ - and all of them would probably hold _some_ semblance of truth.

But none of them would ever actually be the real reason.

He thought about that as he ran his fingers over the spines of the books on Akira’s bookshelves, trying to distract himself with reading the titles on the shelves. Sherlock Holmes, The Great Gatsby, Frankenstein, Dracula… He picked one out and absent-mindedly flipped through the pages, not even processing the words as he continued to mull over the thing that had been bothering him since he woke up.

_If anyone ever asks…_

No one was going to ask him.

He hoped no one would ask him.

_Why did you go to Akira?_

He wouldn’t have an answer if anyone ever asked him.

“Akechi I - oh, you’re awake.”

Goro looked up at him. “I couldn’t sleep. I hope you don’t mind but I rummaged through your bookshelf looking for something to do.”

“Oh, not at all. What did you decide to read?”

He closed the book and glanced at the cover. “Pride and Prejudice,”

“I completely forgot that I still had that… I must have forgotten to give it back to Hifumi when I met up with her last week.”

“Anyways,” Goro put the book back onto the shelf where he found it. “What is it, are the others already here?”

“No, er… Actually, we’ve decided to meet somewhere else. For security reasons.”

 _Oh._ “So are we leaving, then?”

“Not until after lunch, but…”

_But?_

The extended silence after that _but_ set Goro off way more than it should have. He turned quickly on his heels and arched an eyebrow, trying to coax him to continue talking without actually saying a word himself. 

_But what?_

“Akira,”

“Ah, sorry.” The raven replied, waving a hand. “I’ll, um… I just wanted to talk to you about something. If that’s okay.”

_Shit…_

What exactly did he want to talk about? Did something serious happen, were the other thieves all right? Are the police finally on their tail, were they finally about to get cornered by a gangster? What, what did he want to talk about? And why couldn’t he just say it _now_?

“That’s.. That’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“Ah, thank you.” Akira smiled, but it seemed strained somehow. “I’ll, um, let’s… do it over coffee, it might take a while. If you’re not sick of drinking coffee yet.”

“I’ve only had the one cup you made me this morning. I’m all right.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear.”

His words lacked the usual… well, their usual _playfulness_. Even when Akira was genuinely relieved or happy, he tended to phrase his feelings through lighthearted jokes or friendly teasing. And perhaps Goro just hasn’t spent that much time with him, but he’s never heard Akira actually sigh like that without any joking to go along with it. It was just an honest-to-God relieved sigh.

It sounded like a tired one too - which, at least to Goro, did _not_ bode well.

“I’ll be right out, then. You can wait for me outside.”

“Okay,” Akira replied.

But he didn’t leave. He lingered by the doorway, watching carefully with a troubled look on his face as Goro picked up the thick gray coat he had been wearing the night before from where he had set it down at the foot of the bed. 

“Where did you get _that_ from?”

“Oh. I don’t know, I think I swiped it from some drunk’s chair a couple of nights ago…”

“Ah, no wonder it doesn’t suit you.”

Goro snorted. Well, they agreed on that, at least: gray tweed looked absolutely atrocious on him.

“Hey, don’t wear that anymore. Take one of mine.”

 _Huh?_ Goro gave him a bemused look. “Why, are you jealous because I didn’t steal from you?”

“Oh, yes. I’m positively _heartbroken_.”

Akira walked over to the closet and pulled the doors open, rummaging around inside for a moment before finally settling on something and taking it off the hanger.

“Wait - what are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a better-looking coat.” Akira gently pulled the gray tweed jacket off of Goro’s shoulders and pushed the bundle of black fabric he was holding into Goro’s arms. “I know you usually wear browns or tans, but I only wear dark colours so you’re going to have to deal with it.”

“Wait -”

“We’re about the same height anyway, I’m sure it will fit fine.”

“Hold on a minute - listen to me!”

Akira danced back and avoided Goro’s hand when he tried taking a swipe at the raven. He even laughed as he was doing so… Was he seriously joking around and poking fun at a time like this?

“Akira,” he warned.

“I’m serious! Use my coat.” Akira slung the gray jacket over his shoulder. “Besides, this is evidence of theft, you know? We have to dispose of it right away!”

“That…”

“I’ll wait for you outside, okay?”

“I already told you to do that.”

“My apologies for taking time to save you from imminent doom at the hands of Ann,” Akira waved as he left. “If she had seen you wearing this hideous coat, she would have given you an earful!”

Goro sighed and began putting on Akira’s coat.

Yes, he could definitely imagine _that_. The last time he wore something even slightly unflattering to a meeting with the blonde, she had dragged him into the nearest department store just so she could buy him something else to wear.

Wait.

 _Fuck_ , what the fuck was he doing?

“I’m here now, so what did you want to talk about?”

Akira finally looked up from the spot he was staring at on the kitchen table, his fingers drumming restlessly along the side of his mug. “Wow, that coat really suits you! I should have given it to you sooner.”

Goro pretended not to hear that.

He sat down on the opposite end of the table, noting that the same mug from this morning was sitting near the edge of it. He watched the steam curling from it in the silence, waiting for Akira to start the conversation that he said he wanted to have, but for the longest time there was absolutely nothing.

“... Akira -”

“Sorry.” He spoke up so suddenly that it actually made Goro jump. “Sorry, I was… I was trying to find a good way to word it.”

_Word what?_

“If it’s so difficult, why don’t you just say it the way it is?”

“Because it’s… It’s not really something that I can just say without thinking about it.”

_Oh?_

Goro furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, trying to figure out what Akira was agonizing over. Something he needed to think about before saying, huh… That sounded terribly vague and ominous. Since when - okay, that was a difficult statement, considering the short time they’ve actually known each other, but it was still strange of him to hold back like that. Akira always struck him as the kind of person who would say what he wanted regardless of how eloquent it sounded.

Apparently, he was quite wrong about that.

“What’s so important that you have to think about it? And anyway, when have you ever stopped to think about what you say to me?”

An offended look crossed his features. “That’s a bold thing to say, considering you never seemed to listen to what I had to say.”

 _Damn,_ Goro winced.

It stung to admit, but he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“... I’m sorry.”

“It’s not an issue anymore.”

“So what is, then?”

Akira hesitated for just a moment. 

“Last night,”

Goro tensed.

_Not this again._

It was even more nerve-wracking when it was coming from Akira; at least if it was anybody else, like Ann or Makoto, they would just ask about the details. What happened, where it happened, if he was okay, if he got hurt (and if he hurt anyone, probably, now that they knew of his actual nature)... But with Akira, it could almost be anything.

“Why did you come to the Velvet Room, instead of anywhere else?”

“What?” Goro almost physically recoiled at the question.

“Why did you decide to come to me for help, instead of anyone else?” Akira asked again, leaning forward on the table like it would make his question come across more clearly. “You could have gone to Makoto, even Sae.”

“Do you not remember that it was a member of the _Mob_ out to get me?”

“You could have told them otherwise and they would have believed you.”

 _Shit_.

Akira was right, all things considered.

Even if it was a lie, Goro held the credibility; the police would sooner believe him before they even believed someone with a gun who was clearly out to commit murder. He had actually thought about that possibility - and for a few hours after he left the precinct he worked at, he actually considered going through with that and trying to bullshit his way out of the problem. It would probably work for a few days before Shido would run an intervention that would either get him killed, or arrested.

“For how long?” Goro replied sharply.

Akira didn’t reply.

“... I went to you because -”

_Because you were nearby?_

_Because you I trust you? Because you were the only one I knew wouldn’t turn me in after saving me?_

_Because?_

_Because what?_

Goro clamped his mouth shut and tried again.

“... I was desperate, and you were the only person I could think of, at the time.” He finally admitted.

If he could have helped it, Goro would never admit it to anyone ever for as long as he would continue to remain alive. But thinking about it now, he didn’t really _think_ of anyone else when he was running away from certain death. He had only thought of Akira, of Joker, of that time when they talked in his dimly-lit apartment and the raven had asked him desperately about what he could possibly do to dissuade Goro from going through with the plan of murdering Okumura.

_“Tell me what I can do to get you to stop.”_

It seemed a little silly to think of that while he was completely exhausted and running away from certain death, but at the time it seemed to matter to him. It seemed to matter that Akira was trying to get him to _stop_ instead of threatening him into stopping, instead of tying him up so he couldn’t get to the manor, instead of calling the police or killing him on the spot...

“Really?”

Goro shrugged. “I was tired. You’re pretty difficult to ignore, even in my own head.”

 _Ugh_.

That came out so terribly flat, he doubted Akira would actually take that for what it was - which was just a contrived form of the truth, really, but with how he said it…

To his surprise (and relief), the raven actually laughed at what he said.

“Ah… Am I _that_ charming that you’d have a hard time forgetting me even under the most dire of circumstances?” He said through his giggles.

And there it was.

Goro huffed at how insolent he was being - but actually, it was relieving to hear him joking about things again. He didn’t like the way the atmosphere clouded up when Akira was serious. It was suffocating and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“... Is that all? You made me think it was actually something serious.”

“What? It _is_ serious!”

“You’re truly an idiot,”

“An idiot you _thought_ about consciously.”

 _Dammit._ “If we’re done with this conversation -”

“Akechi,”

Goro flinched.

He hasn’t heard anyone call him _like that_ in a while… Like they actually enjoyed calling his name, like they actually _wanted_ to say his name.

“Wh-what is it?” He replied shakily.

Akira smiled - the intensity of which could have rivalled the brightness of the sun.

“I’m really glad you’re safe.”

Goro blinked.

_You’re… glad?_

It didn’t seem like he was joking… Was he? He didn’t _look_ like he was joking, he was smiling far too earnestly for him to just be playing a trick on Goro. It didn’t look like he was lying, either.

“Um, yeah, uh…” 

Goro stood up uncomfortably, knocking into the table for the second time again that day and almost spilling the coffee. He grabbed his cup and backed away, clutching onto it for dear life as he fumbled for an excuse to lock himself back in Akira’s room.

_What the fuck._

“Call... Call me when we’re leaving,”

Akira seemed to come to his senses then, because he looked away looking very red in the face and very mortified - which only made the situation worse, because now Goro was absolutely _sure_ that he meant what Goro thought he meant.

“Twenty minutes,” the raven replied stiffly.

“Okay. I’ll… be around,”

He turned around quickly and left, trying not to overthink about what Akira had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to acknowledge that I published this at on January 1st 2021 HAHAHAHA  
> It's probably still the eve for a lot of you guys anyways, so this counts as a December update right? (；・∀・)
> 
> Anyways, I had such a hectic last few weeks of December because our exams dragged on until the 23rd and ahhhh there was so much else that happened that I don't want to share but they definitely dragged my writing schedule way WAY back and ANYWAYS I hope your holidays are going well whether or not you celebrate!  
> HERE'S A BIIIIIIG HUG FROM ME!! SENDING YOU GUYS LOTS OF LOVE!! (ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> I was planning to make this chapter to directly move the plot - but I got so tired writing the last chapter that I decided to take a break. So this chapter just ended up being Akira and Goro being cute for like eighteen pages because I'm in a good mood and I just want them to be happy - and I want you guys to be happy while reading this as well lol.
> 
> See you all again soon, my lovelies! ♥♥♥


	11. Deadlocked

“Sorry for making you all come on such short notice,” Akira said as he and Goro walked into the thirtieth-floor conference hall of the Okumura Corporation Building in downtown Shibuya.

“It’s no problem,” Yusuke reassured him.

“It sounded urgent anyway. We were bound to meet up eventually.” Ryuji agreed.

Akira looked relieved by that - which Goro found amusing, to a degree. Did he expect to be met with resistance and protest, when both of them very nearly _died_ last night? Honestly, the fact that they even postponed a meeting like this to the afternoon of the following day was egregious in and of itself; if the same kind of incident had happened to the Mob, they would have held an emergency meeting within the next hour.

“Where’s Haru?” The raven asked, moving to sit at the head of the table.

“She and Futaba went to go pick up Makoto.” Ann answered. “That was about ten minutes ago… They should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Do we wait for them?”

“No. Haru said they’d just catch up when they arrive.”

Goro lingered by the door, looking on as the rest of the Phantom Thieves caught Akira up to speed with the events prior to their arrival. Although no one had really voiced out their opinions against his presence - Ryuji sent a particularly nasty look in his direction, but he didn’t really _say_ anything so it didn’t really count - he felt like he wasn’t meant to be in that room with them. Like he wasn’t welcome.

It was a fair sentiment, all things considered. If the roles were reversed and he was the one inviting an enemy into his home for a strategic meeting, Goro would have been just as apprehensive, if not more so. That he was even allowed to set foot in the building felt like a crime when Haru and the other Phantom Thieves knew of the truth in his involvement with the failed assassination of the company’s current CEO. He shouldn’t have been there and everyone (including him) knew it.

“Akechi,” Akira called out, gesturing for him to sit.

Everyone except Akira, it seemed.

“Oh, sit next to me!” Ann offered, patting the seat next to her.

And Ann.

So, despite his reservations, he went and sat down. It would have been far more awkward if he continued to stay standing anyway.

“All right… Anything you guys want to clarify about the incident?”

“Has there been no other attempt to attack you since last night?” Yusuke asked.

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Not even while you were on your way here?”

“Well no, but…I _did_ feel like we were being followed.” Akira glanced at Goro. “Akechi, did you notice anyone suspicious?”

 _Ah_ … So he had noticed. 

The moment he set foot outside Akira’s apartment, Goro had been seized by the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched on all sides, even with a pair of glasses on and one of Akira’s hats pulled down low over his face. It was highly unlikely that anyone would be able to recognize him at a glance but his head was working against all logic, at that moment. He _knew_ that he wasn’t being watched by the people he passed by on the street. That just wasn’t a very smart thought to have.

But even Goro turned stupid when he was tired and afraid.

Akira must have noticed him constantly looking around as they were walking - which meant that, at some point, someone _else_ could have noticed him doing so as well.

“Not really. I didn’t notice anyone I knew or anyone that stood out among the crowd - which means that either they’re still recouping, or whoever they sent to get us is really good at hiding.” He replied.

“God, I hope they’re still reeling.” Ann mumbled worriedly.

Yusuke hummed thoughtfully. “They might be. Hopefully. Remember what Futaba said? Since the other night, none of their networks have moved. Their operations might have been suspended for the time being.” 

Goro pursed his lips into a thin line.

Although it might have seemed like a good thing at face value, that didn’t sound at all good. That they managed not to kill off Goro that night wasn’t _too_ big of a deal that they would center all of their efforts on trying to eliminate him just like that… He tried to think quickly of what reason they might have had to go into a brief period of stasis, but it’s not as if he’s met with Shido since he failed the whole mission with Okumura. So he was just as much in the dark as everyone else.

He didn’t say it out loud, though. He didn’t want to cast more unease on the group, especially now as they were struggling to formulate a plan.

“Hey, you mentioned on the phone that they knew you were Joker, right?” Ryuji asked after the conversation drifted off elsewhere.

“Yes,”

“How’d they figure that out?”

Akira shrugged. “I don’t know. I tried asking Futaba to look into it, but as of now…”

“They probably saw you coming and going into my apartment.” Goro interjected. “You were the only one of the Thieves who ever actually visited me like that. Even Makoto and Ann don’t know where I live - and you’ve even come in _thief-attire_ several times. You weren’t exactly being subtle.”

“You _did_ that?” Ann blurted out.

“... Admittedly,” the raven replied sheepishly. “Sorry. I knew you’d be angry if I told you -”

“I’m not angry. I just wish you would have told us. It’s not like you aren’t allowed to do that.”

Yusuke shook his head. “It would have been preferable if you didn’t, but it’s already done so it doesn’t really matter either way.”

Wait…

The others didn’t _know_ that Akira was visiting him like that? Goro frowned, a little confused at the realization. All this time, he thought that the raven was coming by to monitor him, to make sure that he wasn’t getting up to any trouble or that he wasn’t getting very far in his investigations into the Phantom Thieves… But he wasn’t?

What was Akira doing, then?

“Are you sure you didn’t just rat him out?” Ryuji accused.

Goro turned to him with a look of disdain. “Excuse me?”

“You said someone could’ve seen him coming and going. Are you sure you didn’t tell someone to keep an eye on him since he’s been doing that a while?”

“Trust me, if I had done that Akira wouldn’t be here with any of you today.” He replied sharply.

The stale silence that followed that train of thought was deafening.

But it was true, wasn’t it? 

Now that he said it out loud, Goro realized that it was true. If he ever had any intention of turning Akira over to the Mob then he would have done it sooner and the raven would have been dealt with sooner. 

But he didn’t do that. 

“... Moving on,” the raven cleared his throat gingerly. “Despite knowing _my_ identity, I’ve confirmed that they don’t have any knowledge on the rest of you. So Akechi’s theory might be correct if we take that into consideration.”

“Really? Where did you get that info?”

“The hit man who had almost killed us last night.”

“He has access to that kind of intel?”

“Of course. Otherwise, how would he be able to know if he’s looking at a Phantom Thief?”

Goro didn’t speak for the rest of the first half of the meeting. He didn’t deem it necessary to - although Akira did turn to him for confirmation a few times, a simple nod or shake of the head would suffice as a response. They were simple questions. For the most part, it was Akira taking charge and answering them.

It was fascinating to watch him go about his business. Even when he was out on the field as Joker, Goro didn’t really take him _that_ seriously - well, he took the raven seriously _as a threat_ , but in terms of attitude, both Joker and Akira always had this cavalier edge to them that somewhat dampened the severity of their presence. He was constantly shoehorning his ill-timed jokes and black humor into every situation he could manage… Even at gunpoint, he was smirking and laughing. It wasn’t as if that made Goro any less wary of him - if anything, it made him _more_ wary, but that wasn’t really the point.

The point was that Goro had never seen Akira so focused before, so clear-eyed and dead serious, and it was an _experience_.

“Pardon the intrusion,”

The meeting was temporarily paused at around half past two when Haru, Makoto, and Futaba finally arrived.

Goro would have liked to say that having to be around him didn’t set him even _more_ uneasy than he already was, but it would be hard to otherwise explain his sudden and inexplicable need to keep his eyes glued to the floor. If he didn’t want to be present for the meeting before they arrived, now he was absolutely sure that he _had_ to jump out the nearest window or he was going to spontaneously combust.

Ann seemed to notice him squirming in his seat, but she didn’t remark on it. (Thankfully.)

“Welcome back!” Ryuji greeted.

Haru smiled. “Yes, it feels much better to be back here with you all.”

“You didn’t run into any trouble?” Akira asked.

“No, we were fine.” Makoto reassured him. “But Akira, er… may I have a word with you for a moment before we continue? Please.”

“Uh… Sure.”

The raven stood up and followed her back out into the hallway as Haru and Futaba took their seats.

“... So, Goro-kun,”

It had barely even been a minute since Akira and Makoto left and already Ann was trying to rope him in a conversation that he probably would regret participating in. Goro sighed inwardly, not quite sure if he was glad for the distraction or apprehensive at what kind of shenanigans he might get himself into while the more important issue was stuck on hold.

“What is it?” He asked anyway. For lack of anything better to do.

She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask, why are you wearing Akira’s coat? What’s the story behind that?”

“Oh.” 

“Oh?”

“Stop that,” Goro shook his head at her. “He said I looked like a fashion disaster in my other outfit, so he gave me a different coat to avoid drawing unwanted attention when we went out. That’s all.”

“What were you wearing?”

“An ugly, gray tweed jacket that was _far_ too big.”

Ann wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That does sound disastrous.”

“It wasn’t mine, if it’s any consolation.”

“Well, regardless of the origins of that egregious piece of clothing, at least you’re not wearing it now. You look good in black, you should wear it more often!”

Goro hummed as if he was seriously considering the proposal. “Hm… I might just do that if Akira would be okay with me raiding his closet every now and again.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind if you only ask nicely!”

It was a little weird to be talking about Akira like that. Like they were actually friends. Goro didn’t really know where they stood with each other - though obviously they weren’t _enemies_ at the moment, unless he was just mistaken and Akira thought otherwise. But he didn’t think they were actually friends. He doubted that Akira would actually let him borrow clothes if he asked.

Then again…

“Ann,”

“Yes?”

“Do you… think Akira and I are friends?”

“Huh?” She blinked. “Oh, um… I don’t know, I mean I _think_ you are, but I think only Akira will be able to tell you that, don’t you think?”

Yes, that was a fair assessment...

“We’re friends though.”

Goro turned back to her with a curious look. “What?”

“Us. We’re friends.” Ann replied simply.

_Oh._

He managed a smile. “That’s reassuring to know.”

_Friends, huh…_

“All right, uh,”

When Akira and Makoto re-entered the conference room, the look on both of their faces immediately sent everyone in the room into a silent state of caution. Goro was a lot less tense about it - the moment Makoto came and asked for a private audience with the raven he was already expecting the worst. So the looks on their faces were just validation for him, really.

“So… We have some, er, terrible news,”

“How terrible?” Ryuji asked cautiously.

Akira winced. “So… remember last night, when I said we were attacked by two men?”

“There were two?”

“Oh, uh, did I not mention that?”

Goro frowned. “Yes, there were two men. One of them had pretended to be a customer at the Velvet Room. When we tousled with the hit man he attacked Akira, but I managed to knock him out before he could pose much of a threat.”

“Okay… So what about him?”

It was Makoto’s turn to speak now. “He was arrested, along with the hit man. When we interrogated them last night they didn’t mention anything about Akira or Akechi - which was a good thing, decidedly. Unfortunately, a few of the officers in charge of the investigation weren’t satisfied by their version of events and… well…”

_Oh shit,_

“The long and short of it is that… The second guy squealed,” Akira reported grimly.

Goro swallowed hard.

_Shit._

“ _What_!?” Ann squeaked. “So now what?”

Makoto pursed her lips into a thin line. “Now… the police are on the lookout for both Akechi _and_ Akira, unfortunately.”

  
  


_It was bound to happen eventually._

… is what Goro would have liked to say.

He wasn’t really one for catastrophizing - he found it quite easy to get lost in a dangerous loop of predicting the worst-case scenario and then _expecting_ the worst-case scenario to happen, so he didn’t like dwelling on the possibilities. 

But that didn’t mean that he never thought about it.

Since the night he and Akira narrowly avoided getting killed, he’s been thinking about this outcome in particular because it seemed like, out of all of them that he could imagine, this was the most likely to actually happen. He didn’t think about it until after they left the Velvet Room and he was already trying to get to sleep in Akira’s bed. It didn’t dawn on him until he tried to quell his anxiety with _“Relax, they’re going to rot in jail”_ and immediately realized that _“oh fuck they’re going to get fucking interrogated”_ \- which is not the most horrifying thing that Goro has come to realize, but it was truly one of the most distressing.

That he was going to get screwed over by the very same thing that had saved him from a premature death must have been the purest form of dramatic irony that he's ever experienced thus far in his life.

It was almost frustrating, to a degree.

“Akira.”

The raven looked up from the floor and momentarily stopped moving about. “What is it?”

“Stop pacing. You’re giving me a headache.” He replied irritably.

“Oh… Sorry.”

Goro crossed his arms and chewed on the inside of his cheek as Akira left the kitchen to join him in the living room.

Since the meeting adjourned, both Goro and Akira decided to stay where they were for the time being - although to say that they _decided_ implied _choice_ , and clearly in this situation there was no other choice to be had. Makoto said that there were patrols on the lookout for both of them now, and the risk of getting cornered by both the police and the Mob at the same time was drastically higher during the daytime. It was the collective agreement of everyone at the meeting that, at least until night fell, they’d keep a low profile while the others did some reconnaissance for a little bit.

Haru had taken them up to the thirty-fifth floor of the building and into what was apparently an apartment that Okumura used whenever he worked overtime and was too tired to go back home to the manor. 

_“It would be more comfortable if you waited here rather than downstairs,”_ she told them with a warm smile as they took the elevator up.

Goro didn’t really disagree with her, so much as he didn’t think it was appropriate for him to be lounging around in the apartment of someone he had put into a coma. But he was fairly sure that saying that out loud would just cloud the atmosphere with more tension, so he kept quiet about it.

Haru left to go attend to her own business shortly after they were settled in, promising to return in time for dinner and with arrangements for when they would have to leave the building. Since then, neither Akira nor Goro had really said anything to each other; they just spent the next few hours walking around each other aimlessly and taking turns sitting in the living room and the dining room - but never sitting close to each other.

Goro didn’t really know why that was, but he wasn’t bothered by the silence. It seemed Akira was, though - which was a first. He never seemed bothered by silence before.

He watched the raven carefully as he drifted over to one of the windows, plastering himself to the wall as if to forcefully keep himself from continuing to pace the room. Akira pretended to glance out the window and into the nighttime Tokyo skyline - which was pretty boring, all things considered, as the only thing to see were gaudy neon signs, dimly-lit streets, and the ghosts of streetlights impersonating the stars. Goro knew that Akira wasn’t really looking, so much as he was just facing that direction; his eyes were out of focus, like he was staring at something else that wasn’t _there_.

“You seem anxious,” Goro remarked. It came out a lot harsher than he intended - but, well. It was there and he couldn’t take it back anymore.

“Ha…” Akira shook his head, a pained smile on his face. “What gave it away?”

“Do you want me to make a list?”

“No, thank you.”

“Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”

_Could it be that he’s worried?_

Well he was definitely worried - who wouldn’t be? Not being worried in this situation would have been stupid - but if Goro had to make a guess, the imminent danger of his possibly either dying or getting arrested on false charges wasn’t the only thing taking up prime real estate in his head at that moment.

“You sure you want to listen?”

He shrugged. “There’s nothing better to do. I’ve already read the same magazine about twenty times since we got here.”

“That doesn’t make me feel compelled to talk to you about it,”

“But you will, won’t you? You’ll still talk about it.”

Akira stared at him for a moment.

Then, he shook his head and took his seat - but not beside Goro, so it was clearly a serious situation. He sat down on the adjacent couch, close enough that they didn’t have to talk too loudly but far enough that there was perhaps at least a two-meter distance between them. A reasonable distance.

“... I’ve been thinking for a while now, and I’m a little concerned that we might not be able to get out of this situation unscathed,” the raven admitted.

 _That was never a possible outcome in the first place_ , Goro wanted to reply.

But he wasn’t _that_ big of an asshole.

“Well there _is_ still a chance that we can minimize the danger if we act fast.”

“Mm…”

Akira took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He said nothing as he set them down on the coffee table. Goro did the same with his own fake pair of lenses; he didn’t know why he’s been keeping them on for so long, considering how they were so foggy with dust and grime that he could barely see through them anymore.

“That can’t be the only thing on your mind.” He finally probed after another prolonged bit of silence passed between them.

“It isn’t.”

“So what is?”

Akira hesitated for a moment, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat like it would make his trepidation any less noticeable. Goro didn’t force him to talk. Why would he? He had nothing to gain. It’s not as if he was in a hurry; all he wanted to do was to figure out how to get Akira’s nerves under control. Neither of them could afford to panic now.

“... It’s nothing, really. Just a conflict of interest.”

“Between you and the other thieves?”

“Some of them.” Akira shrugged.

“That sounds more than just _nothing_ to me.”

“It’s nothing too extreme, I promise.”

Goro pursed his lips into a thin line.

A division in the interests of the Phantom Thieves was definitely one of the worst things that could happen at that point in time and they definitely needed to work through that - but it wasn’t Goro’s place to be staging an intervention. Whatever it was that they were disagreeing over, they had to work through it themselves.

“That’s quite surprising,” he remarked. For lack of anything better to say.

Akira tilted his head curiously. “What is?”

“That you’d get into a dispute with your friends.”

“ _That’s_ what you’re surprised about?”

“You’re very agreeable I’ll have you know.”

“When have I _ever_ agreed with anything you said?”

Ah _._ Fair. “I don’t count. We aren’t friends.”

Akira frowned. “Aren’t we?”

_No._

Goro met his gaze and tried to muster up some form of courage to say it.

No, they weren’t friends. Or at least they weren’t before, when all of this began. Despite his nights spent at the Velvet Room or the nights Akira conversely spent in the dining room of his apartment, despite all of the conversations and the discourse and the cups of coffee, it felt like a stretch to label them as _friends_.

It _still_ felt like a stretch now, if he was being honest.

“Goro Akechi,” Akira called out loudly - which honestly scared the shit out of Goro since he was so deep in thought, “I _want_ to be friends with you if you don’t think we already are.”

“What - Do you do this with _all_ of your friends?” He muttered, wildly bewildered by whatever the hell was going on.

“No. My friends usually think we’re friends before I even have to say it.”

“That seems terribly on-brand for the company you keep.”

“Come on, say that we’re friends.”

_“Why?”_

Akira smiled. “Personal validation.”

“What am I, a fucking prize to be won?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Goro laughed despite himself.

Akira did too - and it was _weird_. Just like yesterday, they were laughing in a situation that should have never had the room for it. But Goro didn’t feel bad about it. (Well, maybe he did. But he was too busy laughing to pay attention to how bad it made him feel.)

“What would you get, from being friends with me?” Goro asked after the laughter had died down.

The smile faded slightly from Akira’s eyes at the question - which made Goro’s blood run cold, just a little bit. Was that a bad question to ask? Should he _not_ have mentioned it?

“What do you mean?”

“What would you…” Goro cleared his throat and started over. “What would you gain, from being my friend?”

“Does there have to be something?” Akira asked in return.

_Well…_

Goro didn’t really know how this kind of thing worked, to be honest. Friends was a relative term; it usually meant having a connection with someone who had resources, someone who had capabilities that could supplement one’s own, someone who could cover the blind spots that he had that would otherwise become fatal weaknesses. Every time he heard the word _friend_ get thrown around, it had always been in a business context. Shido’s friends were political allies, his connections to the Mob, all the people who worked for him and supported him.

And, at least to some subconscious extent, he adopted that mindset too. Even his relationship with Makoto and Sae was a strategic one; having the utmost trust of the police chief of his precinct and the best prosecutor in the city meant that there were less eyes on his back and two more credible people who would defend him in case of emergencies. Of course he enjoyed their company from time to time (when they weren’t stressed to the point of invoking the devil when they were pissed) but that seemed more like a happy coincidence than anything else.

Perhaps his first real friend would be Ann, now that he considered it… Although that, too, had stemmed from a very utilitarian place of purpose.

“If there has to be anything,”

Goro jolted back to the conversation when Akira spoke up again.

“I suppose I like our talks.”

“Huh?”

“If we become friends. I can actually talk to you more - and without fear of getting arrested for trespassing,” he repeated, counting on his fingers like he actually had a list of things. “Hm… I’d be able to crack jokes around you without being under the threat of death -”

“Trust me you will still be under threat of death if you make any more terrible jokes even if we _are_ friends,” Goro smirked.

“Ah! Good to know that you’re at least consistent. I like that in a friend.”

“You have very low standards.”

“Trust me, consistency is pretty hard to come by these days.”

Goro chuckled.

Akira seemed relieved at that reaction.

“When all of this blows over, let’s take a break and go somewhere. Go on a trip, maybe take a vacation with the others...” He said wishfully.

“ _If_ all this blows over.”

“So help me god, I will make sure this all blows over.” Akira replied firmly. “For everyone.” 

Goro blinked. 

Akira said it so… Intensely, so determinedly. Like he was actually willing to fight the entire Mob on his own if he had to just so he could finally bring an end to this entire mess.

Goro wanted to believe him. He sounded so sure.

“... Akira, can I ask you something?”

The raven tilted his head curiously to one side. “Yes?”

“When you… What was your goal, when you began doing work as the Phantom Thieves?”

“Huh? Why the sudden curiosity?”

“Nothing. It just seems like you have a vendetta against the Mob.”

Goro was pretty sure that, at least after Kamoshida, they were purposely targeting members of the Mob - and very important members, even. He didn’t think it was merely coincidence that the Phantom Thieves just _happened_ to be targeting these members that kept crippling Shido and his operations (albeit briefly). He had to wonder if maybe…

“That’s not really…” Akira began hesitantly. He stopped, paused, and sighed heavily before starting again. “It’s not really that I have a _vendetta_ against the Mob, it’s just, I -”

 _I_ , Goro noted. He said _I_ and not _we_.

“... I mean, we didn’t know that Madarame was a part of the entire thing. At least not until after Kaneshiro. So it’s not that we were really targeting them specifically.”

“How _did_ you come around to deciding who to target, then?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was always just a coincidence?”

 _Not really._ “Persuade me,” he said instead.

Akira leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms on his knees and fidgeting with the sleeves of his coat. Goro waited. He wasn’t in any particular rush today, not today when he desperately needed something to make time slow down. 

“... If you’ll notice a pattern,” The raven began, reaching to push up his glasses before he realized that he wasn’t wearing them. “The major witnesses who testified at the stand were friends of mine. Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto…”

“Aside from the Medjed case.”

“The Medjed case was singlehandedly resolved by one of our own, too. The actual and _original_ leader of Medjed. Futaba.”

 _Huh…_ Goro didn’t really think about the real faces behind Medjed since that information wasn’t relevant to his job. Now that Akira mentioned it, it kind of made sense. Futaba seemed to be a genius in her own right. (He made a mental note to… well, not to check on her or to ask her about it, but he would ask Akira if she was the reason why they knew so much background information on him. Then he would ask where that information came from.)

“Your point being?”

“We only decided to go after the people we did because they were directly threatening our acquaintances.” Akira replied simply.

“So it’s a personal agenda, but not towards the Mob?”

“Something like that. It was actually Futaba who let us know that they were all connected to one network.”

Goro lingered on that thought, for a moment.

“One more thing,”

Akira nodded. “Sure. Anything.”

 _He’s far too careless with this information,_ Goro thought in dismay. He didn’t even hesitate. It’s not as if this was important intel or anything - it was hardly even relevant in the grand scheme of things, but still.

“Who’s your next target?” He asked, curious as to whether or not Akira would actually answer.

The raven tugged on a loose thread coming from the end of his sleeve. He wrapped it carefully around the tip of one finger and pulled hard until his skin turned red from the strain. Then he pulled the thread away with his other hand and laced his fingers together so he wouldn’t do it again.

“Well, we don’t _really_ have one right now - we have to unanimously agree on that, after all, and we don’t even know where to begin at the moment.”

“You aren’t going after the Mob?”

“Maybe we are. But you know how complicated _that_ would be.”

Yes. Goro knew that far too well. “What if you targeted the head of the organization, the very top of the chain of command?”

Akira narrowed his eyes slightly - but not in suspicion, rather as if he was trying to see a picture more clearly at a distance. “That would be ideal of course, but we don’t even know where to begin with _that_ investigation. They’re pretty well-hidden, whoever they are. Even Futaba’s network doesn’t have intel on them.”

_I do._

Goro was about a step away from saying ‘ _I have intel. I have his name and a face and everything you need to go after him except his current home address’_. He was one step away from saying that and he was almost completely ready to divulge all of that intel, from Shido’s complete name to his work schedule to which cohorts he kept in his inner circle regardless of whatever consequences would come to bite him further along down the line. He was ready to be over and done with it, with his connections to the Mob. If he told Akira, he would be completely severing his connection to them. He would be an actual, honest-to-god traitor, and his death penalty would be warranted.

He was almost ready to go through with separating himself completely..

_Are you going to let them deal with it?_

But.

_Are you going to let them do the work?_

But, but, but.

“Akechi?” Akira prompted after an extended bit of silence.

Goro shook his head. “It’s nothing. You’re right, that would be quite difficult, especially at this point in time.”

“... Yes,” the raven mumbled, staring at him intently. “Akechi, are -”

“Hey! I hope I’m not interrupting anything!”

The two of them straightened up as Ryuji all but barged into the room, a lively grin on his face that was decidedly inappropriate considering their current position, but well they weren’t in any immediate danger yet.

For once, for _once_ Goro welcomed the sudden intrusion. He didn’t want to talk about the subject at hand any more than they already had, even though he was the one who had brought it up. Yet another mistake added to his growing list of miscalculations; he shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. He should have known better than to talk about that kind of thing.

“Not at all.” Akira reassured him, smoothing out the complex expression on his face with his own equally radiant smile. “Did Haru send you?”

“Yep! She’s waiting downstairs with a car.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re moving to the manor, since it’s much safer there than being here in town. At least if something happens, we have space and less civilians around to get caught in the crossfire.”

Goro shifted uncomfortably at the idea.

Although it was true and they would be better off regrouping at the Okumura estate, he didn’t really _want_ to be there for obvious reasons. Of course he wasn’t going to protest - he wasn’t in any position to, but obligation rarely ever made him feel better.

Akira glanced at him worriedly, but didn’t address or mention him.

“All right. Let’s get going then.”

The elevator ride going back down wasn’t a quiet one this time around. Akira and Ryuji made sure that there was no moment of silence to be had, though most of the conversation was noticeably one-sided in favor of Ryuji’s rather energetic storytelling. Goro made sure to keep his distance, if only by a few paces, just so he could give the two of them the illusion of privacy. Akira seemed like he needed a break from all the serious business; being with his somewhat simpleminded best friend and having a good laugh or two was a good pause, and one that Goro would gladly lend him.

_Friends…_

Goro leaned back gingerly against the back wall of the elevator. 

He didn’t usually dwell on these things - though clearly Akira had the propensity for getting things stuck in his head. Did he _want_ to call the raven a friend? Did he want to call Ann a friend, and what about Makoto?

_You could just turn them in._

Goro dug his fingers into the sleeves of his jacket. He could feel how sharp his nails were through the fabric (he should get a new pair of gloves soon).

If he turned in Akira and all the other thieves, if he exposed all of their identities and had them disposed of… His death sentence might get retracted. Best case scenario, he’d be returned to his previous position and his routine would go back to the same old tension-filled game of cat and mouse that he’s been playing for the past five or so years of his life. He’d go back to the mundane throes of office paperwork and orchestrations of accidents for political opponents… but he would be one step closer to toppling that son of a bitch father of his, wouldn’t he?

_If you turn them in -_

“Hey,”

Akira pulled back when Goro flinched. The raven’s hand had been warm against his shoulder, and the ghost of his touch lingered long after he had pulled away.

“Sorry,” he offered quietly.

“It’s okay. Are you all right?”

_If I turn them in..._

“I’m okay.”

Akira hesitated. “... Okay.” He said simply. Just _okay_. “Come on then, the others are waiting.”

_Not now._

Goro decided that he wasn’t going to think about it right now.

Not right now, while he was in Akira’s company, under his _protection_ even. Not now while he had an active death sentence looming over his head, not now while he was in the company of the other Phantom Thieves. He wouldn’t think about it now, while they were the only ones still keeping him alive.

Maybe, if he was lucky, he would never think about it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I'm slightly on time this update, lol. It ended up being a continuation of last chapter's inner turmoil and whatnot, but anyway I'm happy with it. I've been in an introspective kind of mood lately.
> 
> I've been having feelings about Goro Akechi lately because he's a stubborn asshole who thinks he can do everything by himself and I respect him for that hustle but also no baby please get some help.
> 
> Some Clarifications:  
> \- Goro mentioned the whole "five years of his life" thing earlier, and I don't know if I clarified their ages in this fic but they're around the 20-22 age range. I was going to make them around 25-ish, based on our current school system in my country, but people tended to graduate younger in the past so I stuck with the early 20's age bracket.  
> \- I don't know if anyone actually cares about historical accuracy in this fic (I seem to care sometimes but not all the time), but while the first skyscrapers began construction in 1925, they weren't finished until around the early 1930s. The story is set around 1925 or 1927, so that's a bit of a discrepancy here but I like skyscrapers so we're putting them in.
> 
> Okay that was long, thanks for tuning in to this update, hope you all have a lovely day/afternoon/evening wherever you may be! ♥♥♥


End file.
